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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957290">Of Choices and Paths</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaltyMuyFancy/pseuds/CaptainSaltyMuyFancy'>CaptainSaltyMuyFancy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canon Era Alternate Universe, Character Study, Dealing With Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Finished but may resume in the future, Gratuitous Swearing, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, POV First Person, POV Nasir, You can pry Gladiator!Nasir from my cold dry hands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:07:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaltyMuyFancy/pseuds/CaptainSaltyMuyFancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As the rebels finally have time to rest and settle into their new home at Vesuvius, old tensions become inflamed. For better or worse, Nasir finds himself at the center of it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agron/Nasir, Nasir &amp; Camila, Nasir &amp; Chadara, Nasir &amp; Crixus, Nasir &amp; Donar, Nasir &amp; Gannicus, Nasir &amp; Ilithyia, Nasir &amp; Medicus, Nasir &amp; Naevia, Nasir &amp; Spartacus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was going to make this a standalone but it got really long and meandering so I broke it up into chapters. Not really any significant plot, just a re-interpretation of the events of "Vengeance" episode 6: "Chosen Path" with some Nasir exploration and Nagron hurt-comfort fluff. Some minor changes have been made but the overall story is the same. I really just wanted to write Nasir and the Starz Spartacus series universe, so I wasn't that focused on an intricate storyline.</p><p>Before you begin, note that:</p><p>I kept Medicus alive because in canon he dies of dysentery off-screen while they're hiding in the cisterns. I feel like the writers really wasted a character there but that's just my opinion.</p><p>Lowercase “medicus” refers to the position and/or the area where the medicus works, while “Medicus” refers directly to an individual who holds that position.</p><p>All characters mentioned are canon characters, see the Wikia for more information about them.</p><p>This was initially inspired in part by "Chapter 8: Presented Choice" in the series "Blood and Battle" by NotRoman (Manniness) here on Ao3.</p><p>Most of this is just stuff I wanted to write for fun, but part of me also wanted to present an alternate characterization of Nasir because I've disagreed with some of what I've read in fics.</p><p>Not beta-read, expect errors.</p><p>I tried to stay pretty true to what happens in the episode, outside of the main plot changes re: Chadara and Nasir. The only other modifications being that I changed or added in some actions and conversations between various characters in the background.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Halt! Do not take another step!" an authoritative voice tore through the busy courtyard. </p><p>I dropped the container I was carrying and paused as commanded, body instinctively going rigid in anticipation of confrontation. "What is my offense?"</p><p>"Do not use that tone with me, you brat!" the owner of the voice limped down the worn stone stairs, wagging a finger at me as the people around us kept gazes carefully averted and went about their affairs, "I gave you strict instructions! Do you not remember them? Does memory slip? Were ears blocked from head being stuck in ass? Answer!"</p><p>"No," I sighed, "I remember." </p><p>"And yet you disobey?!"</p><p>"It would appear so," was all I could muster. The day had been long, and I had no energy left to put up a fight.</p><p>"It would <em>indeed</em> appear so, you shit! Must you suffer consequences before learning a lesson? Mus-" </p><p>"Camila, you mean old bitch, leave him be," Donar grinned as he clapped the older women on the shoulder while passing by. Camila, unofficial matriarch of our rebel camp, slapped him across the face open-palmed, drawing a good-natured chuckle from the German man as he scrunched his nose against the onslaught. </p><p>She grasped Donar by the ear and pulled him over to the tall basket of swords I had set at my feet moments ago. "You pick that up," she ordered him before turning back to me, "lest <em>your</em> wound open from lugging rubbish about!" Donar chuckled once more, picking up the basket with one arm and making toward the shelter of the portico. Rain was coming, and the camp was scrambling to clear the temple yard of supplies that could spoil with moisture, or debris that could do damage in storm's zephyr.</p><p>"I cannot sit upon ass aimlessly all day every day, Camila," I defended myself, "The basket was light, I was not straini-"</p><p>"You will not need to sit upon ass if you are tied down!" Camila barked, "Go bother Medicus while I still allow you use of fucking legs!" She dismissed me with a wave of her arm and made for another unfortunate soul who drew her ire. Despite inclination to argue, I chose to check in with the medicus in case he really did have something for me to do. It had been many weeks since I took sword to gut while fleeing the mines of Lucania, and I was bored and irritated to the point of madness at having to sit idle for recovery.</p><p>"Give me task to fill time, you Greek toad," said I to the camp's medicus, a spindly balding Greek man named Chiron to whom everyone referred by title out of respect.</p><p>"Fuck off" was the man's reply. I sat by his side anyway. He was crushing dried herbs on the portico to vent the strong smell, a task with which I had spent many hours helping since being permitted to move freely. Well, mostly freely. He wordlessly handed me a mortar and pestle and then I helped myself to handfuls of dried henbane leaves (typically reserved for stomach spasms and digestive issues, our medicus also liked to use it as a sleep aid for those with recent injuries). The smell of rain hung thick in the air, burying us in the sour aroma of the plant with every bushel we crushed. Sometimes during this chore Medicus would talk of his training 'back home' in Greece, reminiscing on the methods of various iron-fisted instructors he had over the years. He opened his mouth to speak, I hoped to share more stories, but he was cut off by yelling coming from within the temple.</p><p>"-cking satchel!" snarled one voice that sounded suspiciously like my Agron.</p><p>"I gave it to <em>you</em>, ars-" said another voice that sounded like Donar's, sliding between common tongue and Germanic with the unintentional ease of a native speaker long from home. Their bilingual exchanges were obscured by the sound of objects being tossed about. I was not yet familiar enough with German to understand them, though Agron had undertaken teaching me and swore I showed great promise.</p><p>"What is your fucking primitive throwing tantrum for this time?" Medicus grumbled, "I have never known him to quarrel with the other German savage."</p><p>"I do not believe they quarrel," said I. House slaves know well the difference between household items being shifted around hastily and household items being used as weapons of temper. This I did not volunteer. Agron emerging from the temple interior, a look I can only describe as enraged panic on his face, drew mind from shadows of the past, for the moment.</p><p>"What has the pup yipping so today?" Rabanus chuckled as he and Fulco finished hefting the last of the weapon containers up the steps.</p><p>"Close fucking mouth, look for a small brown bag of coin and a map," Donar growled as he emerged from the same place as Agron. The two of them searched furiously through the containers on the portico, pulling them aside, dumping them out, sifting for the items in question. Perhaps to prevent further mess, many of the other rebels began their own search, though everyone grew more harried with each passing moment without success. I looked between layers of stacked sleeping mats and the pile of clothes in need of mending.</p><p>"Nothing!" Agron yelled.</p><p>"Nor here," said Donar somberly. They continued searching but the hopelessness on their faces was clear.</p><p>"Calm yourselves!" Spartacus shouted, storming out from the temple to ascertain the cause of commotion, "What moves to such fits?!"</p><p>"Our remaining coin is <em>missing</em>," said Donar as he ceased his search and approached Spartacus in defeat.</p><p>"Fuck the coin, the map is gone!" said Agron, tumbling from spilled container to spilled container before stopping before Spartacus, "Our position, our plans toward Neapolis...!"</p><p>"Someone seeks to betray us for promise of Glaber's reward," Donar conjectured. Perhaps Fortuna was watching, for right at that moment she dropped the Celt before us, carrying a pack.</p><p>"Spartacus..." said Mira. Everyone turned to Gannicus, who paused in the center of the portico. His mind must have been other places, for he was caught off-guard when we grabbed his notice.</p><p>"Gannicus...you leave without words?" said Spartacus.</p><p>"I have had them with Oenomaus," the Celt answered.</p><p>"What do you carry with you?"</p><p>Gannicus's thick, dark brows knitted together. "Water. Meat caught by my own fucking hands-"</p><p>"Our map takes flight in your wake," Mira interrupted.</p><p>"A thing I have seen your gaze upon," added Spartacus.</p><p>A suspicious pause preceded the Celt's reply. "I am guilty of many things. Betraying ill-fated cause does not stand among them." He nodded at Spartacus but spoke to all of us, "Remove yourself from fucking path."</p><p>We did not. Instead we all took a step toward him, turning our loose crowd into a choking noose. He had spent too many days sitting about being a lazy, selfish, pessimistic leech to be allowed to take flight under such circumstances. We had all grown tired and mistrustful of him over the last few days; Even Crixus, who shook his head when Gannicus cast a pleading look back to him.</p><p>The Celt faced forward with a wicked smile and laughed darkly, "I knew you would lead these men to their deaths eventually," pointing at Spartacus with his wrapped swords, "Is this the day you would do it?"</p><p>"They are but loyal. A quality you seem unfamiliar with." The Thracian clearly took pleasure in the retort. The man was not so stoic as he believed. Whether it was that or his words or something else that set Gannicus off, he snarled, bowed his head, and charged straight into Spartacus's gut. He knocked the Thracian down the steps and into the courtyard, their swords sailing down with them. The crowd rushed forward to watch while Fulco, Litaviccus, Rabanus, Ortius, and Donar bounded down the steps and surrounded the Celt, Agron leading the charge. He placed himself in front of Spartacus before I had the chance to tell him to be careful.</p><p>"No!" Spartacus commanded Agron, "Do not come between us! I would show him what a man with <em>cause </em>is capable of!"</p><p><em>Gratitude, Spartacus.</em> I had seen Gannicus's victory in the opening games of the Capua arena with my dominus, had seen him mercilessly triumph over nineteen of Campania's best gladiators, many of his brothers among them. Agron was a potent and fierce warrior, likely the greatest of Spartacus's men, but there are no warriors in the arena; only slaves trapped in a cage, their only hope of leaving alive being to kill their cohorts in the most bloody way possible. Gannicus had trained and lived that life far longer than Agron with not only great success, but great relish. He would have shredded my warrior, even with Spartacus and the others at his side.</p><p>"Give sword," I pressed Agron. Spartacus had retrieved the blade he dropped, as had Gannicus both of his, but the Thracian had but a single weapon while the Celt duel-wielded. Spartacus could most likely hold his own with one blade, but supplementing it with Agron's was a good excuse to prevent my gladiator from charging into the fray on impulse. He grudgingly tossed his sword to Spartacus and fell to my side.</p><p>"You fight in the style of dimachaerus," Gannicus observed of Spartacus.</p><p>"Trained by Oenomaus himself."</p><p>"Let me pass," Gannicus gave Spartacus a chance to stand down as he tossed his shawl and pack to the side, "Or put skill to final test."</p><p><em>Spartacus, please</em>, I begged silently, <em>there will be no victor here, only blood and animosity. Set aside pride and take the way out. </em>I did not bother trying to put words to sound; the Bringer of Rain could not be swayed in matters of principle and battle. He howled and charged on Gannicus, blades swinging through the night as the first drops of rain fell from the heavens.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love Medicus, okay? He's a tiny, crabby old man who has to put up with the strongest and most irritable and emotionally-maladapted men in the world while they're in the worst pain of their lives.</p><p>Medicus's name is never given in canon but I named him after the centaur who taught Patroclus and Achilles the healing arts before they went to war.</p><p>I love the main characters but I also love the various side and background characters in this show. I've never watched a show where I genuinely like all the characters, so I'm having fun playing around all of them. The character development in this show is unmatched, same with sets, costumes, and history (I'm not saying it stayed 100% true to history because that's obviously wrong, but a lot of what they have is accurate and the things they changed were *mostly* done so in a meaningful way that complimented the story).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spartacus and Gannicus fought viciously, four swords dancing through the damp darkness like bolts of lightning. I wanted to look away but I could not, for I was transfixed with disgust. The display was simply shameful; two grown, powerful men playing a deadly game of dueling egos while Glaber's forces continued hunting us and butchering anyone they pleased...a dark day for our fledgling cause.</p><p>What managed to pry my gaze away was a flash of blond hair out of the corner of my eye. It was Chadara, slinking along the portico and temple wall. I assumed she was frightened by the fight, and went to comfort her.</p><p>"Chadara," I said, jogging forward as she tried to pull open the gate.</p><p>She flipped around, back pressed tightly against the wall, "Tiberius!"</p><p>"Nasir," I corrected her, "Are you well? You seem frightened." I could understand, had that been the case; the fight was brutal, and we were practiced at escaping sudden bouts of violence, thanks to our irritable dominus and his cruel guards.</p><p>She checked behind me but at this point we were past the corner, our comrades gathered on the portico and in the courtyard being too focused on the fight to take note of us. She replied tersely, "No. No, I am fine." She had always been a horrible lier.</p><p>"You don't seem it," I observed, "Is it because of the fi-" I paused as I took note of a satchel draped across her torso, "Are you going somewhere?"</p><p>"Fresh air," she said, "I want fresh air. I tire of the dust."</p><p>"Of course..." I said skeptically, "But perhaps wait until the storm has ended to venture out."</p><p>"I will be fine," she said as she resumed trying to open the massive gate. Her frail arms trembled while the door hardly budged.</p><p>"Chadara, that's-" I tried to encourage her to step away from the door, but in doing so, I noticed a paper scroll sticking out of her satchel. "The map..." The realization was looming ahead of me but I held back, wanting to rest in obliviousness for a few moments longer.</p><p>Chadara rolled her eyes in that way she always did, no matter how difficult the circumstances or how high the stakes. She gave up on the door and turned around to say "Keep the lecture to yourself, I haven't pa--”</p><p>I tore the map from her satchel. "What the <em>FUCK</em> were you thinking?!" I whispered, voice hoarse from the strain of trying not to scream, "You would send us all to our deaths for the hope of coin?!"</p><p>"How could you think such a thing?!" she demanded, genuine hurt in her eyes, "I did not plan to give you all away to the Romans, I but wanted to use the map to travel far from here! This as well," she grumbled as she tossed the bag of coin at my feet. I scooped it up and clutched both objects to my stomach.</p><p>"Why?! Why would you do this?!"</p><p>"Am I not free now, as Spartacus claims?! Can I not come and go as I please?!"</p><p>"I mean why would you choose to leave <em>this </em>way?! Look at the mess this has caused in the camp!" I motioned to Spartacus and the Celt's ongoing fight, "If you had been captured, or the map stolen, we would all be dead! And we need this coin to purchase necessities we can't forage or build ourselves! If you wanted to leave, you could have spoken to--"</p><p>"To who? King Spartacus? Your German lummox? The fucking Gaul? You really think any of them would have given me aid to take leave?!"</p><p>"Yes!"</p><p>"You are blinded by your own position!" she bemoaned loudly, rolling her eyes again.</p><p>"Oh do not fucking start with that!" I snapped, losing control of my volume for a moment.</p><p>"You're just like Spartacus's lovesick bedwarmer," yelled my friend bitterly, "coming off of your man's perch only long enough to talk down to those of us who were not fast or clever enough to bed a top gladiator!"</p><p>"Is that what this is about?!" I snapped absent concern for volume, "You are envious because none of the gladiators favor you?!"</p><p>"Envious?!" Chadara yelped, "My, how you flatter yourself! You have not changed at all, <em>Tiberius</em>. You were so inflated just because Dominus deemed you a little brighter than all the other whores in the villa. Now you've become some barbarian gladiator's favored plaything and you're once again better than everyone else." She was practically screaming now, but I was too distracted with hurt and rage to quiet her. "What have I to envy of a man who must bow and scrape the way I do, but has to pretend it's for love because he can't stand the sight of himself otherwise? At least I can accept myself! You can't even admit that like the rest of us, you're still just a fucking SLAVE!"</p><p>Chadara was as a sister to me, and as such we had fought viciously with snide barbs and mean jabs all our lives under the same roof. Such spats were not uncommon between us but she went too far this time. She knew how much I valued my new independence. She knew how much Agron meant to me. She knew--even when I did not want to admit it to myself--that I feared one day Agron would tire of me and move on. She knew all of this because she knew me well, and she chose to use it to hurt me just to deflect valid criticism.</p><p>There were a thousand things I could have said in response, each more hurtful than the last. But none of them were capable of mending the rift between us. Instead I stared at her in silence for many seconds, my stomach sick and eyes failing to hold back angry tears. "Do whatever you fucking please, then!" I screamed back at her before I stormed off. </p><p>"Tiberius, no, wait--" she said softly as she grabbed my elbow. I shrugged her off, leaving her in a secluded alcove between the gate and the temple wall, and did not look back.</p><p>I intended to alert my German lummox so he could put a stop to the fight, but my way was blocked by Mira and a mob of wide-eyed onlookers. I was not bothered; I figured they had but heard me yell and were turning to see what the commotion was about. I did not become concerned until I saw that Spartacus and Gannicus had paused their brawl to stare at me as well. The sickness in my stomach nearly crested to my throat as I realized the coin and map were both still in my hands.</p><p>"N-no, I-- No!" I tried to explain to anyone who would listen. I looked back for Chadara, but she must have still been in the alcove where I left her, for she was nowhere to be seen. So here I was: the Syrian who made attempt on Spartacus, carrying the stolen map and coin and trying to sneak through the crowd, probably to return the map and coin since his crime had been discovered. Logic completely fled from me as panic set in; I was about to lose everything for something I didn't do. I would be pushed out (at best) of the cause I came to care about, denied by new comrades and friends, rejected by my heart...</p><p>I was drawn from my mental spiral by the latter--my barbarian gladiator--slinging an arm across my shoulders, silently placing himself as a buffer between me and the crowd. His warm, strong body protecting and supporting me was cherished beyond words, especially considering the scenarios my terrified mind was creating. I only hoped he trusted me and intended to allow me the benefit of the doubt until we could speak privately.</p><p>"S-Spartacus, I did not-- I--..." I couldn't continue. What could I say? <em>I know how this looks but-- </em>or <em>Surely you must know me well enough by now-- </em>or <em>It was Chadara, I had nothing to do with it</em>, none of it would matter. My past hostility and the objects in my hand were all the evidence needed by the gawking mob in the heat of the moment; poor circumstance now left no room for attempt at explanation.</p><p>The Thracian cast down his weapons and approached me, hands outstretched for the contraband. I gladly ceded them to him. "What happened, Nasir?" he asked calmly.</p><p>"Is it not obvious?" Gannicus snapped, "The oaf's pet betrays your cause, yet you accuse me!" I did not try to stop Agron when he lunged for the Celt. His massive hands caught Gannicus around the throat and slammed him to the ground, sending globs of mud splattering across the courtyard.</p><p>"Agron!" Spartacus barked, storming over to where my German clutched the champion's long hair with one fist and pummeled his head with the other. Though Gannicus may have been a god of the arena with dual swords, there was nothing he could do hand-to-hand against Agron's greater size and unrivaled fury. Spartacus, Pollux, Fulco, Crixus, Donar, and Lydon groped and scratched like mad just trying to get a hold on their berserk brother.</p><p>While such an outburst was far from out of character for Agron, the showy brutality with which he fought betrayed his intent to make a scene so as to move the crowd's attention off of me. Having Gannicus flat on his back in the mud was simply a tangential benefit. Had Agron truly been acting from pure rage in that moment, the Celt would no longer draw breath. The act lifted heart because it meant that, for the moment at least, he did not turn from me.</p><p>"That you of all lowlives and cowards would treat Nasir like a fucking criminal should see your inflated head snapped from twig neck, you shit-eating Celt rat!" Agron roared as his brothers finally managed to peel him off of Gannicus. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, Gannicus found it difficult to speak coherently with his busted lip. No one offered to help him up until Spartacus stuck out his arm.</p><p>"Gannicus speaks with much bluster," Crixus said to Spartacus and the crowd, taking care to distance himself from Agron as the other gladiators were able to restrain him, "but point is well-made. He clearly did not steal from us, and we all dishonor a man of the Brotherhood with our disrespect and mistrust." He motioned to me, "The boy has been an asset in the past, but also a liability. I fear we have laid suspicion at the wrong feet."</p><p>"This MAN has already proven himself worthy of respect and trust time and again by shedding blood and almost forfeiting life for our brothers and sisters, as he did in your ill-planned attack on the mines, you spineless fucking Gaul!" Agron retorted.</p><p>Spartacus frowned at Agron but nodded once before he spoke, "Apologies, everyone. Day has been long. Disperse and tend to evening meal." The people grudgingly obeyed.</p><p>Agron had been wrestled to the ground and I walked over to him softly and held out my hands to help him up. Spartacus nodded and the gladiators relinquished my feral German. He took my hands and I made effort to pull him up, but it was his powerful legs that brought him back to standing position.</p><p>"Agron... I did nothing..." I began, holding his face in shaking hands.</p><p>He wrapped his meaty arms around my biceps and crowned my scalp with his forehead. "I know. All will be well." The words were tantalizing to believe but seemed unrealistic to my stress-addled mind.</p><p>"Apologies," we heard Spartacus say to Gannicus, "your words prove true."</p><p>Agron's glare at both the Thracian and the Celt could have blistered flesh. He shook his head and turned from them, leaning down toward my ear, "Do not mistake previous silence for lack of trust," he whispered, "I but saw no reason to defend you to anyone. You have more than earned the right not to need it. I know not what happened but it does not matter; you and our position are safe, all else is of low importance."</p><p>"Will I counsel with Spartacus?"</p><p>"I imagine. I would stay by your side, if you would let me," he whispered in my ear.</p><p>"Go clean up the mess you made, you big oaf, and tell Donar I said he has to help," said I with a kiss on his cheek.</p><p>He chuckled and opened his mouth to whisper something against my lips, but closed it and glared as Gannicus strode to depart.</p><p>"Is it wise to let him go?" Agron demanded of Spartacus, tightening his arms around me as the god of the arena walked past. The Celt made for the gate and fell from my sight.</p><p>Spartacus watched after him but did not move. "Every man has a right to his own choice. Gannicus has made his."</p><p>"And may yet prove a threat," said Mira.</p><p>"We have faced far worse," was Spartacus's response. Agron looked back to me and rolled his eyes at the Thracian, drawing a faint smile from my lips. He kissed my cheek and we separated to attend to our respective affairs. He punched Donar lightly (as lightly as a man of his strength could, at least) in the arm and spoke something in German, mentioning my name. Donar nodded and they proceeded to organize the mess they made. I smiled and went to follow Spartacus to the conference room with Crixus, Mira, and Lucius following behind us.</p><p>"Nasir," said Spartacus before I could speak. He set the map and bag of coin down on the makeshift desk. "How did you come into possession of these?"</p><p>"I noticed a former house slave trying to take leave during your fight with Gannicus. I caught up to them and discovered they were trying to conceal the items in a satchel. We argued and...apparently we made a scene. I was going to bring the items to Agron but I did not get that far."</p><p>"Why Agron?" Lucius said with sly amusement. I do not think he meant it as a slight, but I chose to take it so. Crixus quirked his brows at the Roman in agreement.</p><p>"Why <em>not</em> Agron? I hissed without thinking.</p><p>"Because he dotes on you and would conceal your involvement in a scheme to steal away with the map and coin," Crixus replied flatly.</p><p>"Well we did a piss-poor job of it, were that true."</p><p>Spartacus smiled at me, "Do you know the thief's name?"</p><p>"I am reluctant to give it out until I know what the punishment will be. I will share their name with you alone, and only if I get a guarantee that they will not be killed or treated cruelly."</p><p>"While I would not see anyone here mistreated as under Roman hands, I am reluctant to agree to such terms until I know more information. Ultimately it will depend on why they made the attempt."</p><p>"They felt insecure and unsafe here, and did not believe you had their best interests at heart. They were angry at the lack of control over their life and they wanted to use the map and coin to find themselves passage out of Roman territory. They swear they had no intent to reveal our location, and I believe them."</p><p>"Chadara, is it not?" said Mira.</p><p>"As I <em>said</em>, I will not reveal their name until I know the penalty is fair."</p><p>"And how is that to be judged? Would you have her get away with it, as you did in attempt on Spartacus?" Crixus needled.</p><p>"I would see that they do not suffer excessive punishment to sate the boredom and bloodlust of warriors kept too long from battle."</p><p>"A legitimate concern," said Spartacus.</p><p>"For you <em>and</em> her, Crixus added.</p><p>"I wish to believe you, Nasir," said Spartacus before I could respond to the Gaul, "but if you will not yield the thief's name, the both of us are in a very difficult position. After all that has happened, I fear your word absent reliable corroboration will not be enough assuage the concerns of the rest of the camp."</p><p>"After all that has <em>happened</em>," I barely pushed out through grated teeth, "I thought my word held the same worth as anyone else here." I was within my right to seek vengeance on Spartacus months before, though I came to realize there were better alternatives and I was glad I did not succeed. Since then I had aided his cause, risked my life for his cause, killed for his cause, and this was his thanks? Mistrust and condescension? And Mira, who I nearly died protecting; and Crixus, for whom I jeopardized my budding union with Agron and then my fucking life; and Lucius, the fucking Roman noble; this was how they saw me? I did not owe any of them apology or loyalty any more than they owed me for upending my life and demanding thanks for it. "Where was this suspicion when I told of Naevia's true fate in the mines? Why do my words draw doubt now, after I have repeatedly risked all absent thought of my own wellbeing?"</p><p>I continued before anyone else could cut in, "I have told you the truth. I know my attack on your life casts me in suspicion, but I have gone out of my way to contribute to this cause, one for which I have risked everything; not to prove myself to you, but to prove myself to me. To prove to myself that I am more than a fucking slave, that I can choose how to live and for what purpose. I would not betray my own efforts and the bonds I have built, not for coin or preexisting friendship or anything else. If you do not believe me, it is because you so choose. I have nothing to prove to any of you."</p><p>The whole room was silent for a few long moments before Spartacus smiled and nodded, "Apologies, Nasir, you are right." Mira, Crixus, and Lucius stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "You have made yourself a great asset to our cause and proven a loyal brother. You were put in a difficult position tonight, but came forward in honesty and kept a level head. Tell me the name of the thief when we are absent company and I give you my word that my response to the act will be as reasonable as possible. Mira? Lucius? Crixus?"</p><p>"So long as we ensure such a thing does not happen again..." said Mira tersely.</p><p>"I am too old for this sort of thing," said Lucius, "I am for wine and bed."</p><p>Crixus choked out a hard scoff and took leave of us.</p><p>Spartacus sat down upon a stool and did some arm stretches. In the past he said doing so helped him stay awake and alert when he was fatigued.</p><p>"How is your wound, Nasir?" he asked.</p><p>"Getting better every day. Soon I will be ready to resume training."</p><p>"Excellent, your presence on the sands with us will be most welcome."</p><p>"I...do not know how true that will be after tonight."</p><p>Spartacus sighed and nodded. "We must address this carefully before the others, so that the blame does not fall upon you in the eyes of our comrades. I will think on this more, be prepared to speak again on it soon."</p><p>"Understood."</p><p>"And speaking of such..." Spartacus prompted.</p><p>"It <em>was </em>Chadara, as Mira suspected," I rolled my eyes as I spoke.</p><p>Spartacus smiled tiredly and sighed, "I feared so. Mira has...<em>counseled</em> me on her before."</p><p>"You will forgive me if I pick up where she left off then, under the circumstances?"</p><p>Spartacus chuckle, "Of course."</p><p>"You must understand that Chadara has been treated as meat all her life, and she knows of no other way to survive than to tolerate such treatment. But after Rhaskos fell, she had difficulty finding...suitable companionship. She is afraid because she cannot protect herself in the only way she knows how. She feels like she is being treated as a burden who has to earn her keep, and she would prefer to scrape her way on her own than feel like she owes anyone. I have been so taken with my own affairs that I neglected to offer her much more than a sympathetic ear when our chores coincided. I should have known something like this could happen, and I will take some responsibility."</p><p>"A noble offer, well received. But just because something <em>could </em>have happened does not mean it was destined, or even likely. Even if it was so, that does not mean you bear any responsibility for it." He stood up from the stool and walked over to the window, leaning against the sill on his elbows and looking out, even though nothing could be seen beyond the lingering mist and the darkness of night. "While I would not grant excuse for Chadara's actions, I can understand how the situation led her to them. I do not intend to confront her for now. I would watch what she does next, whether she makes similar attempt or becomes more integrated with the cause. From there I would speak with her and ask what she believes would be an appropriate response. It is imperative that people realize their agency with us. Is this appropriate?"</p><p>"It is. Gratitude."</p><p>"Gratitude to you, for your honesty and your candor. I spent very little time as a slave compared to others, the nuances of that life often escape me."</p><p>"The past has deep claws that pull us in directions we do not desire," said I, "but that does not mean we are absent choice. I do not wish her to escape all consequence, only that it is proportional to the offense."</p><p>Spartacus turned from the window and nodded at me. "I will take your words under advisement and notify you if anything changes. For now, see to rest." I took it as a dismissal and turned to leave when he moved to hover over the table: a new set of maps had been looted from the cart seized by Tyronius, Pollux, and the Veteran earlier that afternoon, and I was certain he would be poring over them all night. "Nasir," he called as I was almost out the door, "I know our ranks have not always been hospitable to you, but know that your compassion and sharp mind are rare gifts for our cause. Gratitude for remaining with us...and proving to many among our ranks that shackles can fall from the mind as well as the body."</p><p>He meant it as a compliment, but I was not certain I held it so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Spartacus and I bade good night and parted company, some of the weight was finally beginning to slough off my shoulders. Until, of course, I met Chadara in the main corridor. Her satchel was gone and she appeared to be carrying some newly-completed arrows down to the storeroom.</p><p>"Tiberius..." she began. Her expression was too flat to guess her coming words but it did not matter, I had no desire to hear them. I maneuvered past her without so much as a glance in her direction. Her previous words had almost completely fallen from mind, what with the stress of the evening. But they came flooding back now, and my throat tightened with every step. Desperate for immediate distraction, I went to the small pantry along the temple's exterior to check on the status of the laundry. Between rebels working themselves to a sweat and the bloodied loot from dead Romans, there was always a mountain of wash to be done.</p><p>Instinctively I pulled a man's crimson-stained shirt from the pile and soaked it in a vat of foul-smelling liquid the composition of which I tried not to think about. I allowed hands to carry out the duty they had come to know so well, and strained to listen to conversations between fellow rebels in the courtyard a few feet away. Eavesdropping came as naturally to a house slave as breathing, it was a source of both entertainment and protection, if the words overheard were of any worth. I did not have to struggle to hear an exchange of words between three of the gladiators, who were sharpening their swords outside and around the corner from me.</p><p>"--heard him tell his woman myself, he thinks he helped a house slave friend from his old domus steal the map and coin. But his woman would hear none of it, so he said no more," Leviticus loudly whispered.</p><p>"No man who wishes not to be parted from cock would speak so lowly of a fellow man of the Brotherhood. Especially one with such...fervent support," Fulco commented.</p><p>"A bold assumption," said Litaviccus, "that the loss of such would even be noticeable on a fucking Gaul," drawing snorts of stifled laughter from his brothers. I did not have time to ponder the identity of whom they spoke.</p><p>"Keep my cock from mind and tongue, lest you find yours missing," Crixus threatened as he walked past. <em>Ah fuck.</em> In my head I tried to pray that he would not approach me, but he saw me as he walked past the open doorway of the pantry before I could even begin.</p><p>"So," the Gaul began, barring my exit to the courtyard, "what is the punishment this time? More coddling?"</p><p>"I haven't energy for this. Let me work," I groused. The day was wearing heavily on me and I found myself absent placating words.</p><p>"I do not like this."</p><p>"A common theme with you."</p><p>The Gaul smirked. "Spartacus has a soft spot for you. For a time I thought it deserved, but all your scheming with the fucking oaf and the Thracian's blindness to it are enflaming old concerns."</p><p>"If conversation between lovers is scheming then it is something in which you are too well-versed to offer valid critique, considering it is all you fucking do here," I bit back. My tired self has always been a thoughtlessly disagreeable man.</p><p>"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Crixus chuckled.</p><p>"That you are too useless to this cause for your criticisms to be of any worth, and you can bend over and fuck yourself with them," I responded plainly. I hung up the shirt I had just wrung dry and tried to push past him, but found a tight fist quickly curled into my tunic.</p><p>"Now you listen to me, you arrogant little fuck: you may be Agron's boy and Naevia's friend but there are many who could easily take your place," I fought back tears at the reigniting of insecurities stirred up by the earlier quarrel with Chadara, "The air with which you cavort about as though the Roman consul himself is wholly un-fucking-deserved, and even though Spartacus may be blind to you, I am not."</p><p>"I thought you my friend. From what wellspring does this new hostility flow?"</p><p>"Your choice of fucking company," he answered simply, releasing my tunic and shoving me back with one hand.</p><p>I could not help but laugh, "You fancy yourself a senator, fabricating alliances and condemning all whose interests do not coincide with yours? Will you run for office soon? I fear it is late in the campaign year, but Fortuna's blessings to you all the same."</p><p>"I <em>fancy</em> myself a man of honor, and the German cock you've replaced your dominus's with is not."</p><p>I could taste bile on my breath but I kept my mouth tightly closed and I did not retch. I pulled back hard and he released me, giving me a final glare as I turned on heels and made for the temple interior.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Projects mental health problems onto fictional characters because I can't afford a therapist.*</p><p> </p><p>Not-fun fact: Ancient Romans used human and animal urine diluted with water to wash their clothes. (Source: https://bit.ly/FulloSMIGRA)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wandered the halls for a few minutes, unsure what to do except not think about the events of the day. I checked on the cleanliness of the portico (Agron and Donar appeared to have done an adequate job of restoring everything to its pre-panic state), stopped by the wash area to cleanse the smell of laundry from my hands, and did a random smattering of unnecessary chores before I eventually I found my way to the corner in which Agron and I liked to put our sleeping mat. It was isolated and intimate and felt like its own room, though it was probably the remnants of a collapsed closet.</p><p>Agron sat upon our mat, nervously tapping his foot, as he always did in quiet moments. I flicked his ear as I rounded the corner and he looked up at me, his omnipresent frown lifting into a smile before deepening at the sight of lingering mist in my eyes and upon my cheeks. I had not realized tears had fallen, and I hoped they had not done so while still in sight of the Gaul.</p><p>"What happened? Has someone hurt you?" he asked with the swell of murder in his voice as he shot to his feet to cradle my cheeks. The subsurface rage jarred a phantom of a smile from me for but a moment.</p><p>Silently I shook my head, toed off my shoes, slipped off my tunic, and laid down next to where he had been. I reached up for him and forced another smile, "I would not trouble you with my petty bickerings."</p><p>He laid back down next to me. "It is no trouble," he squeezed my chin affectionately before turning onto his side and laying his head next to mine, "I would see words lift troubled spirit so that rest may come." His fingers massaging my scalp were almost enough to put me to sleep despite my addled state.</p><p>"Promise me you will not act on this until Spartacus makes final decision."</p><p>"What--"</p><p>"Promise me."</p><p>"Very well, I promise. What's going on?"</p><p>"Chadara took the map and coin to find passage out of Roman lands. I noticed Chadara was acting strangely when the fight broke out and when I approached her, I caught her trying to conceal the items in question. I worried she wanted to deliver the map to Glaber but she swears she only wanted to use it for her own navigation. I do not condone her decision, but she is lost and frightened and meant no harm."</p><p>He silently disagreed but did not argue--he knew I knew more of the heart of a former house slave than he did. "You told Spartacus this?"</p><p>"He says he wants to see what she does next before he takes action."</p><p>Agron nodded, his gaze distant and lip folded beneath teeth in deep thought. "It is best you went to him. He is well-versed in handling such things, or at least he thinks he is."</p><p>"What might he do to her?"</p><p>"I know not, the man's mind fucking baffles my own. Though I am confident he will be fair, especially if you explain the circumstances." I nodded in silent acknowledgment. "But what are these from?" he asked as he wiped away tears from my face with his thumbs. The tenderness only made more fall.</p><p>"When Chadara and I...<em>broke words </em>earlier, we fell to argument and she said...some harsh things..."</p><p>"Share and see them put to grass?" my barbarian gladiator said as he draped himself across my torso and rested his chin on my chest, carefully avoiding the area around my wound. To this day I still do not think he understands his own size, for he lays atop me as though weightless despite being twice my girth and two heads taller than me.</p><p>I threaded my hands in his short, downy brown hair to anchor myself, but the greasy texture was off-putting so I drew invisible patterns on his back instead. I genuinely longed for the bathing luxuries of Roman elites, but I doubted I could ever convince this man to take a proper bath even if I could find one. Such thoughts were pleasant distraction from the issue at hand. <em>Would that his disdain for hygiene was our biggest problem...not Rome seeking to put us to cross, and not squabbles with our allies hindering us from preventing such a fate.</em></p><p>"It should not bother me," I began, "but it does, and even more so <em>because </em>it should not."</p><p>"What should not bother you?"</p><p>"Chadara's words. She- she knows my insecurities and used them to upset me. I know she did not <em>mean</em> it but that almost makes it worse, that she would deliberately hurt me with them even though she knows better."</p><p>"What did she say?" he asked. I realized too late that my concerns themselves may offend him, but I would not lie to him.</p><p>"She said that I did not understand her struggles because I have the privilege of bedding a gladiator. She--" I bit back a sorrowful hiccup and blinked away tears from my eyes, "She said that I was just another villa whore for Dominus to use, but I held myself above everyone else because I was also his body slave. And now it is the same except I am just a 'plaything' for a gladiator, and I pretend it is love out of shame."</p><p>"Fucking bitch," he spat from clenched jaw.</p><p>"And I <em>know </em>she is wrong, I <em>know </em>she only said those things to hurt me, I <em>know </em>you love me, I <em>know </em>I choose to be with you because I love you too. I know all these things in both mind and heart, yet I cannot rid myself of that fucking nagging voice that questions everything I hold dear; a voice which today she deliberately amplified with her own words. Would that she had been the only one." I regretted the last addendum immediately.</p><p>Curses and condemnations for my friend sat on the tip of his tongue, but he did not release them. Instead he said, "Who else?"</p><p>"...do not seek him out for this, at least not tonight."</p><p>"Who?"</p><p>I sighed and pushed him down to lay on his back so my head could rest in the crook of his neck, "Crixus. He stopped me on my way here. We argued and he spoke much the same as Chadara."</p><p>"You are friends now, why would he say such things?"</p><p>"He resents that I keep company with you..." I stopped, hesitant to continue and unsure how much of our conversation I should reveal to him.</p><p>Agron noticed my pause and rested his brow upon mine. "What is troubling you, my love?" My love. I could not withhold words from the man who held me so. From my love.</p><p>"I made remark that he plays politics in our camp as if he stood a Roman. He said it was a matter of honor, which he has but you do not. Nor do I because- because..." The words sat like acid in my throat, I did not know if they would hurt more coming out or staying in.</p><p>"Apologies, I should not have pressed you to think further on it. Do not say it if it hurts you so."</p><p>But I needed to. I wanted to. I wanted to speak of the things that hurt me. I wanted someone else to know, someone else to care. When I was called Tiberius, I tried to deflect everything. Every insult, every obscenity, every threat, I pictured myself a shield of steel from the surface of which all of them would bounce off. But they did not disappear, they merely collected at my feet, clogging my journey through daily life and causing me to stumble at times. Now I was called Nasir, and I saw myself for who I was: a <em>free</em> <em>man</em> with mind and heart and the ability to share them willingly with whoever I chose. And I chose a barbarian from the lands east of the Rhine who genuinely believed standing in the rain got a body 'clean enough'.</p><p>"-because I replaced my dominus's cock with yours," I wept. I hated crying and I was trained not to do it. A few errant tears would slip out during times of strong emotion, but I rarely ever cried. But one can only endure so much in a day before breaking, and there in the darkness I shattered. Head tucked into Agron's neck, I wrapped my arms around him so as to muffle my voice in case anyone could hear. My gladiator snaked his arms around my neck and shoulder as he trembled with barely-restrained fury. The ever-simmering rage in his eyes came to a boil and spilled angry tears for me, which he dried by burying his face in my hair.</p><p>"Shit-fucking inbred Gaul parasite" was all he could spit out at first. I could feel his mouth occasionally open and close against my temple for several minutes, as though trying to push out words, but none came for quite some time. I was silent as well. The anger rippling through his body out of sympathy for me said all I would have needed to hear. But he managed more. "They try to belittle your independence because they feel threatened by all you accomplish. You do not believe them, do you?"</p><p>"No, it is not that..." Words were coming with difficulty for me as well. "It's... These are the things I fear the most. Aside from the obvious, of course." Capture. Torture. Return to slavery. Suffering and death for those I love. The basic stuff of rebel slaves' nightmares that plagued all of us, whether we admitted it or not. "To have other people see through me so easily and use these fears to wound me just makes me worry that they are real, even though I know they are not. And when I worry about them, it but makes me worried that my worrying means that they are true, because I should not worry about them if I know they are not true. Fuck. That made no sense at all, did it?"</p><p>"I...do not know..." he answered, brows furrowed in confused concentration. "What are your concerns? Put them to words and we will dispel them."</p><p>"That is the worst part," said I, "I do not know. There is no single thing that draws my fear, it is but...there. I fear losing everything, all the time. I fear losing <em>myself</em>. I fear finding out that the life I have built for myself in the past months is an illusion, one of my own invention because there is some great and terrible truth lurking in shadow that I cannot face. I am not paranoid or mad, I know that there is nothing of the sort. I can reason with myself for hours and hours, and I have done so before, but no matter how strongly I know that my life is what I have made of it, there is always some part of me asking 'what if'." </p><p>A few moments passed as I tried to collect myself and Agron did his best to decipher my ramblings. "What can I say? What can I do for you? Would the stars ease your worries, I would pull every last one from the sky and place them in your hands, or weave them through your braid," he said as his fingers continued combing through my hair. He had taken to fixing my hair for me every morning, as he was most adept with braiding from his life before slavery. "You do not question my love for you, do you?" he asked with a twinge of anxiety in his voice.</p><p>I lifted my head, smiled, and stroked his cheeks with both hands. "Never," I replied, "You barbarian goat." My fearsome German giggled. "Do you question <em>my </em>love for <em>you</em>?" Early on, I had wondered if I should be careful using the word 'love', in case I overstepped and made him uncomfortable. But I very quickly learned that such a thing was not possible with my gladiator.</p><p>"Never," he beamed at me, "You fucking Syrian," toothy smile catching the moon's soft rays and lighting up our little corner. Our little world, far from everything and everyone.</p><p>It was several minutes of quiet before he spoke again. "Please know that they are wrong, Nasir. Know that you are kind, strong, brilliant, and fierce, and everything you have that you cherish is because of your heart and your choices. Know that you are where you are today because you have earned it."</p><p>"You are biased," I smirked against his neck.</p><p>He chuckled, "Perhaps I am. I have but had the privilege of seeing and feeling your fire up close."</p><p>"Oh? And what did you see? What did you feel?"</p><p>"I saw the fire inside you and the heart that fuels it. I saw you raise the dead, and I can feel in my bones how you will send all of Rome to the afterlife in their place."</p><p>"I can raise the dead now, can I?" I teased.</p><p>"In a fashion."</p><p>"And what fashion is that?"</p><p>He smiled warmly, "In the fashion you did me." I quirked my head to ask his meaning. "Since that first morning I saw you training with Spartacus in the sunlight, seeing you again was the only reason I bothered to try to survive battle. I died with my brother when we escaped the ludus. I was but possessed flesh haunting the land, bloodlust the only thing guiding my actions. But your wrath and your passion burned bright enough to lead spirit and purpose back to my body. And any fuck who dares question our union can take the issue up with the gods themselves; for the only thing I have ever prayed for is to be forever at your side, and it appears they listened. I tell you this only so that you can remember it when your worries plague you."</p><p>What does one say to such a thing? What does a former <em>body slave</em> say to such a thing? Overwhelmed, all I could manage was "I was almost finished crying, you ass." I giggled as I wiped more tears with one hand and gently pinched his side with the other. He flinched and laughed, covering his mouth and looking around to ensure he did not disturb anyone. A few mats had been laid down around us, but they were several meters away and their occupants did not seem to notice us. "Your words are balm," I said as I rotated onto my right side so that my wounded left was propped up by Agron's middle, our nightly arrangement until my wound improved. My right arm hooked under his neck and pulled him closer while my left rested on his torso, softly rubbing his chest, "As are loving arms."</p><p>"I would see restful sleep add to the effect."</p><p>He kissed between my eyes and then I awoke at dawn.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Toward the end of the chapter, there is a brief, vague discussion of abuse regarding Nasir and Chadara's lives as slaves. It's short but it might be intense for some readers because of the subject matter. There are no details or anything graphic, but it's there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was cresting over the wall and shooting beams of searing light at the portico, the smooth stone floor of which reflected them and burned through my closed eyelids.</p><p>"Do you ever fucking sleep?" I growled at my gladiator as he sat down at my side with a bowl of food for the two of us.</p><p>"I have been known to, on occasion," he chuckled. He helped me sit up and handed me my piece of bread. We were splitting the block of cheese and handfuls of nuts and dried fruits as he spoke, "Euclid asks for you. Well, demands." I nodded in acknowledgment and we shared morning meal, a kiss, and an embrace before I went in search of our cook.</p><p>"Fucking Syrians, always running late," the man complained in his own unique version of affection. He always had one of the gladiators set up a table on the portico where meals would be prepared and served, over which he now stood.</p><p>"Good morning, you whining bitch. What will you have of me?"</p><p>His response was to point a finger at a glob of tan dough, edges roughened due to poor forming. The man struggled with stirring or kneading anything thick, due to the absence of his left arm from the bicep down. I coated my hands in rendered animal fat and went about kneading the dough until it sat a smooth, perfectly round dome in the bowl. After splitting the mixture up into dozens of smaller balls, I laid them on a platter for another rebel to bring to the cooking fire outside, which was stoked by whoever Euclid so ordered that day. There was a hearth in the temple, but it was woefully small for feeding such a massive group.</p><p>We ate in shifts, the earliest shift consisting of those with early morning chores. Most of these were the people on guard duty during the night, gladiators charged with the more physically-demanding work that was best done before sunrise, and a few others charged with morning hunting. This shift also included those who tended the garden and the people chosen to lead assaults to reap resources and Roman terror, a task which required an early departure to get far from our base.</p><p>The first shift was already done, and the bread I was currently rolling out was the second batch of the day. A few hand-sized loaves from the first shift remained for consumption by the second shift, which came just as the sun crested over the trees. This was an even mix of gladiators responsible for training and former house slaves responsible for maintaining and improving the temple and performing normal household chores. The last shift was for the injured and recovering, late risers, and anyone charged with foraging, fishing, gathering firewood, and any other non-time-sensitive tasks. Spartacus and his closest advisors would appear sporadically throughout the various shifts, depending on their morning duties.</p><p>Lysandros took the platter out to the fire when I had filled it, and I helped Euclid set out cheese and roasted nuts. I noted that Spartacus was already out in the yard, making note of the progress of various improvements to our defenses. A few people tried to inconspicuously stare at me, probably looking for signs of punishment or any suspicious behavior, but it was mostly a normal morning.</p><p>Life in our camp was not easy, but it was good, honest, and free; each of us greeted morning invigorated by the lack of collar around neck and the freedom to live as we wished, the choice to be here and put our sweat and blood into our little place at the foot of a volcano. It was not much and it was not easy, but it was ours. And it would always be ours, even after we were all dead and gone, however soon that would be. All material things fade away but truth always remains: we were free here, this was our place, we would always carry this place with us, and there would always be a piece of us left behind, forever tending our duties in the form of lingering spirits and energies etched into the walls and in the love we put into every patch of dirt, every beam of structure. We put part of our lives into this place, and even Rome could not take it back. </p><p>I will never fail to smile at the memory of the blending of freepeople's carefree chattering with the wind whispering through the trees around our sanctuary.</p><p>Donar lightly punched my shoulder in wordless greeting as he took his plate and made for Agron and Ortius on the portico steps, breaking words on something to do with the morning's training. The second batch of bread, now baked to a golden brown, was finished and placed alongside the other offerings just before the second shift began.</p><p>I was handing Pollux a cup for water when I saw Crixus approach Agron. "Where is Nasir? I would break words."</p><p>"And I would break every bone in your fucking body, but we cannot always get everything we want," Agron answered. I was about to speak up and seek Crixus out myself, angry that any man (but especially the one I loved) would decide with whom I would break words, but he redeemed himself before it was necessary. "If he deigns to spare his time for you, he will find you. Now fall from fucking sight."</p><p>Crixus gladly took leave of Agron and approached the table, apparently in pursuit of morning meal. I said nothing as he unintentionally made his way toward me, and eventually he stopped when he realized he stood before me.</p><p>"Nasir--"</p><p>"Yes, I heard. Break your words and go. But do not clog the line." The Gaul looked around and noticed the line of hungry rebels giving him most unpleasant looks, which he tried to appease by falling from the line and standing next to me. He held his plate of food, but did not eat.</p><p>"I owe you apologies," he said, trying to make eye contact with me as I worked.</p><p>"That would be correct."</p><p>"I will not try to deny or defend. I realize now that some of my words were unnecessarily harsh."</p><p>"Harsh? Is that what you think it is, to say I enslave myself and make a dominus out of the man I love?"</p><p>"I should not have made comment on your union with Agron. I hate the man but it was unfair of me to punish you for it. I have tendency to speak without thinking."</p><p>"You need not tell me."</p><p>"I was agitated with Spartacus for acceding to your will in the affair with the map, and I let my anger loose upon you when it was not deserved. But if Spartacus trusts you, then that is enough for me."</p><p>"No it is not," I laughed, "You but seek to ease your guilt by saying this because you know you went too far in comparing--" I could not form the end of the sentence.</p><p>"Apologies."</p><p>"You know better than most what a fucking pig he was. Why would you say something like that, even if you hate my lover?"</p><p>"Because you were right: I do very little with the cause aside from training Naevia. I never did believe in it, Spartacus can tell you much about that. In truth, I do not yet know my place here. Yet I am here and Naevia is here and we are free. And it feels unearned. I am new to the feeling of not having earned something, especially something so important. Hearing you affirm my own misgivings was salt upon wound, and I lashed out to ease the sting. And I am sorry."</p><p>I laughed again, though with more mirth this time. "I did the same. I should not have made such comment to one who helped liberate me and many others from our dominus, one who has been part of the cause since the uprising. I was wounded at my own insecurities being agitated by heated words, and spoke rashly. Let us put it behind us," I said as I stuck out my hand.</p><p>He set his plate down in a daze, took my hand, and clapped my shoulder. "Let us see it done."</p><p>He smiled and turned to leave, but I clamped down on his wrist. "Compare anyone I care for to <em>him</em> again, and I will make you eat your own tongue." I said it with a friendly smile, but it was forced. Crixus laughed heartily until it was clear I would not, then nodded and took leave with his meal.</p><p>The third shift eventually meandered through the line, and Aria, Camila, Euclid, and I cleaned up after everyone. Camila then ordered me to take rest and drink some water, so I watched the rebels train under Agron's barking direction. The morning progressed quietly until a sudden crashing sound from the yard at the rear of the temple drew everyone's attention. I did not get up at first--spats were common and violence almost always followed. But many voices began erupting, and I went to look upon the incident more out of curiosity than anything.</p><p>I was surprised to see Donar at the center of the brawl, flinging Tyronius onto a pile of compost by the man's neck. Behind him, Lydon, Fulco, Pollux, Litaviccus, the Veteran, Rabanus, and Leviticus shouted, shoved, pointed threatening fingers, and exchanged minor blows with Priscus, Thrimpus, Felix, and a smattering of other gladiators whose names I did not know for certain, but often saw socializing with Tyronius and Thrimpus.</p><p>From where I stood behind the crowd, I heard Pyrrhus mumble to Lysandros in their mother tongue of Greek, but could only pick out a few words...'map' being among them. The Veteran, also of their homeland, must have overheard them, for he swung around and slapped Pyrrhus across the face, knocking him down. The former continued to yell at him in Greek with finger pointed in scorn as the younger man dizzily stood up--but the Veteran had been so long from home that his dialect was too different from those of the merchants I had overheard with my dominus, and I could not distinguish his words.</p><p>"What did the shit say?" said Donar, turning his attention from Tyronius for a moment.</p><p>"He said he still doesn't know his fucking place among the warriors, for he would dare question one of ours."</p><p>"Well what are we supposed to think?" said one of the gladiators whose name I did not know, "We all saw him sneaking about with it--"</p><p>"You didn't see shit, you wet cunt!" said Lydon.</p><p>"If concerns vex you so, seek comfort from Agron," Fulco chuckled darkly in his hideous yet endearing Celt accent I could not stand.</p><p>"Fuck Agron, seek it from the man himself!" Rabanus laughed. Fulco and Litaviccus gave him brotherly claps on the arm and joined the others in laughter.</p><p>"It would be a dishonorable fight, to break the gimpy little bitch before he's healed," Priscus laughed, joined by his cohorts.</p><p>"That 'gimpy little bitch' trained under <em>us</em>, you ignorant shit-fuck," said Leviticus.</p><p>"He did his Test against the legions of Rome and earned the Mark of the Brotherhood by heated blade in fucking woods, without making a sound," added Pollux.</p><p>A smile grew on my face at the sight of these men--my brothers--defending my honor. I did not need their defense, but the sentiment behind it was touching. Furthermore, such was expected of men of the Brotherhood; insult against one is an insult against all.</p><p>"He took wound to the gut and would've fucked off to the afterlife had it not been for the gentle touch of others," said Tyronius.</p><p>"As would we all, at one time or other. Yet we breathe and bear the mark," Litaviccus pointed out.</p><p>"When we were gladiators!" Tyronius argued.</p><p>"He lived longer than all of your fucking Gauls," Fulco retorted, "Were they not gladiators?" His friends' laughter was cut short by Tyronius lunging at him, the both of them somersaulting across the yard and exchanging blows from fists and knees. Thrimpus and Priscus restrained Tyronius while Donar and Lydon retrieved Fulco, who chuckled while wiping a streak of blood from his nose.</p><p>"No one of wit questions his skill as a warrior," said Thrimpus, "But no amount of prowess in battle can guarantee a man's loyalty. The fact remains that we all saw him sneaking about with the fucking map and coin."</p><p>"No you did not," said a woman's voice. I recognized it but could not believe that was truly who spoke. "He found them in the hands of the true thief and was trying to make it right." It was Chadara who spoke, addressing the crowd from where she had been leaning up against the wall, making arrows.</p><p>"How would you know?" Priscus demanded.</p><p>"...Because I was the thief. He saw me trying to leave and thought I was unwell, that was when he saw them in a satchel I took from the storeroom. We argued and he took them from me to stop the fight. I imagine our voices were what drew everyone's attention, but Tib- Nasir was the only one seen because I was yet around the corner and out of sight from everyone else. I- I did not mean to hurt anyone, I just wanted to go my own way. I am sorry." I had never seen her show true remorse before. It was not her way. She had lived a brutal life and knew nothing but struggle; she did only what she had to in order to survive, a goal for which she owed no apology. On the occasions when she argued with me or another slave, it was forgiven and forgotten by the next morning. What else was there to do? We needed each other to survive; petty squabbles matter for little when those involved hold your life in their hands, as you hold theirs. There was no time or need for apologies in a household where abuse and death hovered around every corner. I was so very proud of her I could almost have forgiven her words the night before. Almost.</p><p>The courtyard was silent for a few moments when one of the unidentified gladiators proclaimed, "Spartacus needs to know this." A rumble of agreement washed over the crowd.</p><p>"He does, rest assured," said the man himself as he wandered out the back door and leaned up against the temple's external wall, "The matter was a regrettable misunderstanding that is being dealt with accordingly. Apologies are owed on my part for neglecting to communicate with all of you the resolution of these events." The rebels exchanged uncertain glances but no one spoke up. "We all stand as one. Mistakes will be made, but they will be remedied and used to strengthen us. I am available for further questions or comments on the matter should anyone require, but let us now return to our duties." He retreated back into the temple, and the only sound to be heard was Agron continuing to snarl orders and critiques at those in training on the other side of the property. Suspicious looks were cast at Chadara as she made for the temple interior, but everyone quietly returned to work. Everyone chattered in gossipy tones, but otherwise all seemed right with the world once again. As right as it could be, at least. </p><p>As I turned to head back to the portico, I collided with a distracted Rabanus as he mumbled with Leviticus. He looked at me for a moment before exclaiming, "Fuck it all to shit and piss, you were there the whole fucking time, were you not?"</p><p>I laughed along with the others who became privy to the exchange. "I was there for most of it, yes."</p><p>"Worry not, brother," said Donar as he lobbed one of his massive arms across my shoulders, "your honor is safe with us."</p><p>"Such is clear to me now. Gratitude, truly."</p><p>"None required," said Pollux, "You have earned your place in the Brotherhood."</p><p>"Though if you could rein in your brute of a man..." said Ortius as he walked past. He had been training the newer warriors with Agron, who must have finally released them for the first shift of midday meal. "...and spare me the constant pissing and whining of the lower men, it would be much appreciated."</p><p>"I will see what I can do," said I, "but pray the very mention does not drive him even harder."</p><p>"Fuck the gods," said Ortius, "Release request from mind, lest the fucking battle-ax be inspired to take up doctore's lash."</p><p>We broke for midday meal, which I shared with 'the fucking battle-ax', and then I spent much of the afternoon reviewing looted maps and other documents with Spartacus. Naevia aided us occasionally, but she was focused more on her own training. When the sun had set enough that light was required to read the maps, Spartacus volunteered to retrieve candles. I was alone in the room when Chadara entered a plate of food for me. </p><p>"So this is why Spartacus scurried off in search of candles, hm?" said I, avoiding looking at her.</p><p>"This was his plan, yes, but I requested his help."</p><p>"Hm."</p><p>"...I brought your meal."</p><p>"I can see that. Gratitude," said I, only looking over at her in earnest when she did not move, "If you do not want to stand there all night and hold it, you may set it on that stool in the corner."</p><p>She followed my recommendation but remained in the room. "Tiberius--" she began.</p><p>"That is not my fucking name," I said firmly.</p><p>"Apologies, Nasir, I-- Apologies. For everything."</p><p>"Everything? That covers many things, most of which are not your fault."</p><p>She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Apologies for betraying the cause and risking discovery of the camp. Such was not my intent. I only wished to find my place in this world, and it did not seem as though I had other options. I am sorry that my mistake caused you much undeserved grief, that my actions jeopardized the place you had earned here."</p><p>I nodded. "Gratitude. But I do not care about my place. This is my <em>home</em>, Chadara, the first one I can remember, and I could have lost it and more for trying to fix something that I did not do. I know such was not your intent, but that does not reduce the risk at which your actions put me. I understand why you are unhappy here and why you may wish to leave, but you went about it in the most asinine way possible."</p><p>"I see that now. And... I am sorry for my cruel words. I was frustrated and angry and- and jealous. Apologies."</p><p>"Jealous?"</p><p>"You are handsome and wise and charming, men always have desired you. Dominus trusted you with important tasks and gave you elevated position. You were respected as much as a slave can be. You were always offered protection, gifts, material comforts--"</p><p>"They USED me! HE used me! I was 'offered' nothing, there was always a price that had to be paid and it rose ever higher for ever lower reward, you know this!"</p><p>"But you had choice! At least more than most of us!"</p><p>"A choice in who would hurt me! One that came with its own fucking tax!"</p><p>"But at least you had it! Perhaps it was almost nothing, but at least it was <em>almost</em>. You remember what it was like before Dominus chose you, where there was no choice in anything, ever! At least you had an illusion to cling to. I know it was not much, but it was more than the rest of us had. And I always envied you for it. And then when the rebels came, men kept pursuing you. Not a day passed and you already had Spartacus's best man drooling at your fucking feet. He could have offered you so much and you didn't even want it! But as if that wasn't enough, you went and fell in <em>love</em> with each other. I had never seen that before. And now you have all his protection and comforts but you don't want or use them. And I was so jealous, T- Nasir. I still am. Not only do you have position that you do not appreciate, you have <em>love</em>. Yesterday I was angry at my own lot, and then you confronted me and I was already envious and I tried to put my pain onto you by saying those horrible things. Apologies, Nasir."</p><p>I could have kept screaming at her until my voice gave out, but there was no point to it. She offered me sincere apology and I understood why it happened. As hurt as I still was, I could not keep up the grudge. "Gratitude. I know you did not mean to hurt anyone. I am sorry I have been so taken with my own life that I could offer you so little in the way of help."</p><p>"You listened and cared, and you helped me even after I hurt you. You owe no apologies to me."</p><p>"I would move past this, if you are willing." Her response was an embrace, which I returned. "Just out of curiosity, what did Spartacus say to you about the map affair?" I asked as we separated.</p><p>"He asked me what happened and he said you had told him everything and you spoke on my behalf. He asked if I still wanted to leave but I said I was willing to try again here. So he said as long as I work hard and own my actions, the matter need not go any further. Would that I had listened to you about him."</p><p>"He is a good man, we are blessed to have him as a leader. But now we have more important matters to discuss."</p><p>"Oh do we now?" said Chadara with eyebrows perked.</p><p>"We need to find you adequate companionship."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>**WARNING: There is an overt discussion of abuse and sexual violence in this chapter. It's not explicit or graphic, but it is plainly-stated and may be triggering for some readers. If it will cause you problems, skip this chapter or only read the first and last few paragraphs.**</p><p> </p><p>I'm adding a bunch of details to Nasir's dominus because we were giving a frustratingly small amount, and he's tangentially relevant in this chapter. All of these details are my own creation but the character is still the nasty creep that Crixus killed in Vengeance e2.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some time passed before we had any more visitors at camp: Gannicus and, of all things, a fucking captive.</p><p>"Fuck the gods," Agron had groaned that morning from the portico steps. I followed his gaze to Spartacus, dragging a blindfolded pregnant woman in a dirtied and torn gown up the steps and into the temple interior. Many of our fellow rebels shouted, spat, cursed, threatened, and shoved her, even causing her to fall upon the steps at one point. Incensed in a way I had never before witnessed, Spartacus continued dragging her by her wrists as though he held the bound shanks of a boar and not a living pregnant human woman.</p><p>Gannicus had trailed Spartacus into the courtyard but now held back by the gate through which he, Mira, Spartacus, and the woman had just entered. A few of the gladiators who had been loyal to him approached him with congratulatory shoulder slaps, which he tolerated with a weak smile. Lucius paused to break what appeared to be critical words, but the Thracian was unmoved.</p><p>I stood from my seat upon a turned-over crate and moved in the direction of the cooking fire (which needed stoking because Rabanus could impale a man on a spear without breaking a sweat, but was totally incompetent at making a fire), determined not to show any interest in the Celt's affairs and whatever plague he visited upon our camp this time.</p><p>Apart from the insufferable gossiping that followed the arrival of Gannicus and his captive, the day passed without anything of note. When we were just finishing evening meal, Spartacus approached Agron and I.</p><p>"Guard her? It is not as though she can go anywhere, the bitch can barely walk," my gladiator objected when Spartacus made request of us.</p><p>"It is not her actions which concern me, but those of the people among our number who would take her life."</p><p>"...Do you not count yourself among us?" said Agron.</p><p>"See to task, that she does not come to harm," said Spartacus.</p><p>"For what purpose is she wasting breath here if not to that very end?"</p><p>"Agron..." said I.</p><p>"See. To task."</p><p>"You will kill her, though, will you not?"</p><p>"I am not Glaber!" Spartacus snapped in a whisper.</p><p>"A fact of which I am aware, though it stands irrelevant."</p><p>"I will not take her life for the actions of her husband!"</p><p>"Such was not my concern," said Agron, "She has now seen our position and could bring the Romans down atop us if she returns to them alive."</p><p>"She is blindfolded," said I.</p><p>"It matters little--she knows the length of the journey from where she was taken, the type of terrain, and the structure that holds us. It will not take the Romans long to deduce our approximate location, at which time we'll be fucked."</p><p>"I will not take the life of a defenseless woman to meet our ends. How will we be better than the Romans then?"</p><p>"By not enslaving people or torturing them to death?"</p><p>"Agron!" Spartacus growled, "See the task completed." Foolish Spartacus turned to leave when my German yet had more to say.</p><p>"You know it was her scheming that forced your hand to take Varro's life, her hand which tortured and murdered one of our brothers as fucking festivity, her words that set Segovax to make attempt on your life and saw him tortured to death as consequence, her manipulations which robbed Aurelia of husband and led to her death by fucking torture. How many people must be tortured and killed to balance the weight of your conscience? If we dig deep enough, I'm certain we will unbury more than enough bones to tip fucking scale."</p><p>"Agron..." I scolded.</p><p>"Is it those things which drive your desire to take her life, Agron, or is it you and you brother's humiliation at her hand when you came to the ludus?" Spartacus snapped.</p><p>Agron practically seized with fury, glaring at Spartacus with visceral animosity. "Fuck yourself," he snarled softly before turning on his heels and heading for the cellar. Spartacus quirked his eyebrows at me as I made to follow Agron, and I nodded to him in acknowledgment.</p><p>When I caught up to Agron, he was already standing reluctant sentinel at the cellar door, though he appeared to have calmed down. I leaned up against the wall and examined our charge: a pale, lean blond woman, I estimated at least six months pregnant, with fine jewelry, hair, dress, and perfume. Though she was covered in nicks and bruises and a layer of dirt, it was clear that she was of exceptionally high social standing. The blindfold over her eyes obscured much of her facial features but for her beak-like nose and smudged makeup.</p><p>"A quivering woman, burdened with child," I remarked, turning to glare at my gladiator, "She does not appear the deadly serpent you give voice to." I love Agron beyond words and above all things in this life and whatever will come after, but the man has traits that tend to grate the nerves. Abrasiveness and impulsivity rank high among them. Add to that hardheadedness, distrustfulness, resentfulness...every man is a composite fresco of his many strengths and flaws, and my Agron has always been a particularly colorful and eclectic work of art.</p><p>"She is wife of the fuck that would see us all to grave," Agron said as though it was totally explanatory.</p><p>"Yet not the man himself," I bit back.</p><p>"Crixus speaks of how she took Acer's life," he turned to me, his contemptuous sneer replaced by a stern look, "as fucking amusement of celebration." I had heard whispers of the Gaul's slow, miserable death, but not of the hand that dealt the final blow. It was of no surprise: I had served many a Roman celebration, knew much of the raucous obscenities to which the festivities often spiraled over the course of an evening. "Her heart is as venomous as Glaber's or any other Roman shits'," Agron concluded.</p><p>"A familiar sore bleeding from your fucking tongue," said Lucius with a chuckle as he approached us from our backs. He carried a bowl of what appeared to be broth.</p><p>"You know my meaning, Lucius," Agron grumbled as he turned to face the Roman.</p><p>"And mostly share in its low estimation, yet I would hold ourselves to higher standing," he turned to me, winking as he motioned with the bowl, "Food, for daily prison."</p><p>"Shall I draw her a warm bath as well?" said Agron with sarcastic sweetness.</p><p>"Consider me all for the child," Lucius snarled as he temporarily lost his good humor. But he quickly found it back, "Unless you fear it shall take up sword against you from fucking womb." My snort of laughter at Lucius's words drew a frustrated, embarrassed frown from my German. He finally fell back to let the older man through, and we resumed our leaning positions against the wall. I smiled watching as Lucius approached the woman and kneeled down alongside her, softly speaking calming words to ease her trembling.</p><p>"Faded years soften wounded heart," said Agron as he looked upon Lucius and the woman with snarky distaste. <em>Stubborn ass</em>, I thought to myself, <em>would rather reduce Lucius's kindness to old age than acknowledge it as basic human decency</em>.</p><p>"Perhaps youth simply sees heart hardened beyond reason," said I.</p><p>I turned to him with a smirk but he stared straight ahead, no longer focused on the two Romans, instead fixated on empty space. "Perhaps," he said impassively.</p><p>"Have I wounded you?" I said incredulously. </p><p>He did not answer immediately, and kept his gaze averted from mine. "You do not know her, or all she has done."</p><p>"Then enlighten me. What was Spartacus talking about, with you and your brother?"</p><p>"It does not matter now. I would not trouble you with it."</p><p>"Yet you think she deserves to die for it?"</p><p>"I know not who deserves what anymore."</p><p>Lucius and our prisoner broke words for another minute or so before the older Roman left with the empty bowl, a strange contemplative frown on his face, and once again it was just us and our charge. </p><p>"You-" the woman interrupted, the removal of her blindfold by Lucius allowing her view of us, "-you were a gladiator in the ludus of Batiatus, were you not? Your hair was different..."</p><p>"Shut fucking mouth!" Agron barked, causing the woman to flinch. </p><p>"I-I can see your sentence of death removed and your palm weighted with coin beyond measure, for the two of you, if you can find a way to see me back to safety."</p><p>"The only way I'll see you out this door is in fucking pieces," Agron snapped.</p><p>"Agron!" I yelled at my lover. I turned to the woman, "Apologies, emotions run high at the moment." I expected anger from my German, but the look on his face was one of injury. </p><p>He shook his head and rounded the corner, into the hall, so as to avoid the sight of her.</p><p>It was not that I liked the woman, or cared about her or sympathized with her. I simply would not be bound by the dichotomy which had ruled my life before joining the cause: where Romans were Romans and slaves were slaves, and all thoughts and behaviors were governed by their separation, absent thought of right and wrong. I would not act a certain way just because she was a Roman and I had been a slave, would not submit to such mindless division any longer. This was wrong, whether or not she was Roman: a helpless pregnant woman, kidnapped and dragged on foot, bound and thrown into a cellar and surrounded by threats of death and violence should not be treated so, no matter from where she hails.</p><p>I knew she had done something terrible, but that did not mean she was not a human being, and a particularly vulnerable one at that. I permitted conversation because it brought us on a little more equal plane, made me feel less complicit in whatever would be done to her. After so many years of being chattel, of being trained not to see the humanity in others, it was therapeutic to freely offer someone kindness and compassion, even when they did not deserve it. Especially when they did not deserve it. I chose to break words with her because I could, and no one else would.</p><p>"The circumstances in which we find ourselves can make us act in ways not of our nature," she said, "What do you call yourself?"</p><p>"Nasir. Apologies, I have not heard your name."</p><p>"Ilithyia. You are Arabian?"</p><p>"Syrian, but with some Arabian blood."</p><p>"I suspected such. The name is Arabian, is it not?"</p><p>"It is indeed."</p><p>"My father had me educated on many cultures as part of my studies. You are educated as well, are you not? You speak with much eloquence."</p><p>"My dominus provided me with basic education, and I learned much at his side over the years as well."</p><p>"Who was your dominus?"</p><p>His name on my tongue made me wince. "Decius Varius Tarminus."</p><p>"Ah, I know the name."</p><p>"Do you?"</p><p>"He manufactured parts for military carriages, did he not?"</p><p>"He did, an enterprise inherited from his father Albicus."</p><p>"My husband had dealings with him some time ago. He seemed like an upstanding Roman. What was he like as a master?" I felt Agron's gaze upon me from the hallway but I did not acknowledge him.</p><p>"Truthfully..." I was hesitant to revisit the memories but felt compelled to make her understand why I was here. I thought perhaps if people like her could be made to understand, things could change. "He was a cruel master. Low of patience, short of temper, and high of...urges. He punished his slaves corporally when we disappointed or when he was frustrated. As his body slave, I bore the brunt of his wrath." I had not shared this information with anyone but Agron. All of us in our camp had been slaves to one dominus or other, such details were of little value. But Agron was my heart, and I his. I shared everything with him, and he gladly helped shoulder the burdens of my past. It made me guilty to share them with someone else, to offer someone who has done such evil glimpse into my trauma when almost no one else was privy to it.</p><p>I continued, "He would...borrow us out to friends and political allies, as they would their slaves to him. As his body slave and of elevated worth to him, I was mostly spared from such duties; but it is a sign of generosity, trust, and affluence to lend out a body slave, reserved only for those of the highest profile, so I could not completely avoid it. I was not so privileged before I was made body slave, nor were those slaves who ranked below me. Dominus and his cohorts were men of power from powerful families; they never had to take care of anything, let alone people. I had to dispose of many a fellow slave who fell to rough handling by Dominus's allies or to cruel guards. That was another vulnerability from which I was mostly spared as body slave, was the attentions of guards and other Roman staff. Though again, not always, and not before my elevation." </p><p>I caught Agron's eye on accident and he wore a questioning expression on his face, to ask if I wanted his comfort. I smiled but shook my head and he nodded, returning to staring at the empty hallway.</p><p>"Apologies, it must have been a most difficult life to suffer beneath him."</p><p>"I survived--and found freedom, purpose, and family."</p><p>"Does he yet draw breath?"</p><p>"He does not. He ceased breathing the night Spartacus and his people took our villa. What of your slaves? How many have you?"</p><p>"I-- one body slave, Amana. She is a Judaean girl, dark of skin and black of hair."</p><p>"Often confused for Syrian, is she?" I smirked.</p><p>"She is. I know so little of her homeland. If I see her again, I will ask her more."</p><p>"Gannicus did not take her life, then?"</p><p>"Not that I saw, but I was not in right mind. The man, he- he is death made bone and flesh. He killed my entire escort by himself. I have never known such fear as when he parted the curtain of my cart on that road. Was it a frightening thing, when they came? Spartacus and his men?"</p><p>"To a degree. Mostly it was infuriating. The man seized our home and took our lives from us, all while saying we were free. I believed he was going to be just like our dominus, but without Roman etiquette to remotely restrain his behavior. I did not want to go back to the life I had before I became a body slave, rightfully fearing everything and everyone, body ever aching from tension and lesions of...various origins. Thankfully I was very wrong. He now stands as a brother to me. Would that all people see the good man behind the legend."</p><p>"Each of us wears many faces to survive..." said Ilithyia with a hint of irritation.</p><p>"You speak truth. It is a fact well known to every slave that life in this world is an extended drama, misstepping during which can lead to humiliation, beatings, rape, death...every one of us stands one Roman whim away from a painful end and a name forever forgotten by history. Your body is in a constant state of alertness, always waiting for the next threat to make itself known. With a miserable existence and a republic built on destroying your humanity, it is difficult to find self-worth or will to live in such a life."</p><p>"I had no idea..."</p><p>"Were it up to me, you would leave here alive. If you do, I would ask you to remember this. Know that we are not criminals seeking plunder or adventure, we are human beings seeking only a life worth living."</p><p>"Of course. I will carry it with me always, and see that those with power hear your words as well. Perhaps if conditions can change, nothing like this will happen again."</p><p>"Such is my hope. Gratitude. Perhaps--"</p><p>"Making friends, are we?" said Naevia with a peculiar edge to her voice as she came to rest against the wall alongside me. She stood in the hall, on the other side of the doorway from Agron, with whom she exchanged nods of greeting.</p><p>"Conversation, at least," said I.</p><p>She nodded at me with a smile, which faded when she caught sight of Ilithyia behind me. "She has done you grievance?" I asked.</p><p>"Not personally, no. She and my domina were friends of that strange Roman sort. She was always selfish, manipulative, and cruel, and caused Crixus much...discomfort."</p><p>"Apologies, I did not know," said I.</p><p>She patted my arm, dismissing it from thought. "So, what great mysteries have been subject of discussion?" Naevia asked.</p><p>"Nothing of note. Did Gannicus say if he slew her body slave?"</p><p>"The little Greek girl, Thessela?" Naevia asked.</p><p>"Judaean, name of Amana."</p><p>"I remember only Thessela. Regardless, he has not spoken of her slaves."</p><p>"The Greek girl was put to cross in the market days passed," Agron volunteered.</p><p>"You are certain?" said Naevia.</p><p>"Lysandros and Santos recognized her when they went to market for supplies. She yet hangs like fucking wall adornment, alongside dozens of other slaves accused of being sympathetic to our cause," replied Agron bitterly.</p><p>"You did not mention you had a slave crucified," I said as I turned back to Ilithyia.</p><p>"The memory is...yet painful," said the Roman.</p><p>"Ironic choice of words," said Naevia.</p><p>"Especially considering her fucking words led nails to part the girl's flesh," Agron added.</p><p>"Truly?" Naevia asked.</p><p>"What do you mean?" I asked.</p><p>"It was her complaint to her husband on the girl's sympathies toward us that brought her to cross. That frail little thing was nailed to fucking board because of <em>her</em>."</p><p>"It was my husband!" Ilithyia objected, "He had her crucified to punish me for a grave insult I did unto him. There was nothing I could have done." It was true that even noblewomen had little say against their husbands, especially one with as much power as a praetor. It was possible she was telling the truth, but it made little difference to the girl tortured to death in the marketplace.</p><p>Agron laughed darkly and shook his head in infuriated marvel at the woman's audacity, or so I assumed.</p><p>Naevia glared at the Roman with reinvigorated disgust but made no further comment on the issue. "I should see what trouble Crixus and Gannicus have found in my absence," she stood from her leaning position and nodded toward Ilithyia, "None will grieve if head is found parted from her shoulders." She made for the stairs and disappeared around a corner.</p><p>One or two more minutes of silence passed before Agron broke them.</p><p>"You believe my hatred for her to be arbitrary?" he asked without warning. His voice was not angry, just upset. Wounded.</p><p>"I thought it was because she is Roman."</p><p>"Lucius is Roman."</p><p>"You do not like Lucius."</p><p>He forced a weak smile, "I do not wish him killed." </p><p>"Then what is the reason, if not only the land of her birth?"</p><p>My lover's face darkened over and his gaze fell even farther from mine. It took him a moment to conjure the words, and when he spoke, I could barely hear him.</p><p>"When Duro and I arrived at the ludus with four other 'recruits', she stood above us, looking to make purchase. She had us strip naked so she could judge us by our cocks. The Celtic Gaul Segovax was...alarmingly well-endowed, so she picked him. But I thought she would pick me. In body I was the largest of the group, and she spent much time looking at me."</p><p>This Segovax must have bore exceptional cock indeed if it exceeded my German's in size, especially if Agron was noticeably larger than him in body. It is ironic, the way the things freemen consider blessings are often curses to slaves.</p><p>"I was happy she was not interested in Duro but I was...I was still...fuck," he shook his head as though to jar the words loose from his brain and said in a cracking whisper, "I was afraid. I never feared <em>anything</em>. I was the older brother, I could not be afraid. But then we were captured, our world taken from us, and brought to this new land of piss and shit where nothing in my power could save us. I was a warrior, but I could not throw spear or swing sword or snap neck. I could only fight when given <em>permission</em> to do so, but these worms could destroy my brother and I for fucking amusement without ever coming close enough to strike.</p><p>"And then a few days later, the guards came with Segovax, beaten all to shit. They said he made attempt on Spartacus and would be punished accordingly, so that we could all 'see the price of ingratitude to House Batiatus'. They made the gladiators torture the poor fuck, cut off his cock, and nail him to board to be hung in the yard with chains, and we had to look upon him until he was dead. Segovax loved Spartacus, practically fucking worshipped him. He only made attempt after he was summoned in the dead of night by <em>her</em>."</p><p>I did not try to picture that of which he spoke. Not just because of how horrible it was, but because I would only see my warrior's face, his body on that cross. And it could easily have been him. Agron is a giant, well-formed, strong, fearsome, handsome, and well-endowed...were it not for Segovax's misfortune, my Agron likely would have been the cunt's choice. My lover in such pain, tortured and mutilated and nailed to cross...had I allowed myself to give it thought, I am certain I would have been sick.</p><p>"And she was always there, we always saw her and she always fucking leered at us. When Batiatus and his faded whore would host celebrations, and we were summoned, she and her cunt friends and all the other Romans would lay fucking hands on us and we just had to stand there and let them, had to say and do whatever they told us to, and if we did not, the guards would take us away and beat us unconscious. I could have killed every Roman fuck in that house, but I had to <em>choose</em> to stand there and let them do anything because I knew of no way to make them s-stop and still protect Duro."</p><p>I always knew Agron was a gladiator, but I often forgot what that entailed for him. It was hard to see him as being on the same level as Spartacus and Crixus, who were gods of the arena and subject to the lusts of many a wealthy Roman. But he was trapped by the same cage of walls and guards as they were, and vulnerable to the same abuses. Perhaps more so, for he was not important enough to Batiatus's purse to warrant concern over rough handling.</p><p>"Nasir?" said Agron, "Are you well?" I turned back to him but could not speak. He could see, though. He squeezed my chin and said, "We are safe now."</p><p>Something very dark and venomous crept its way through my body, from my gut and outward. There is no word for what I felt as the enormity of her cruelty and guile finally sank in, but "rage" is a sufficient enough descriptor. My rage was not just for Agron and all others who suffered because of her, but for me and my hand offered to her in kindness which she twisted and tore from arm with her manipulations.</p><p>She had hurt Agron through her deviancy, caused so many innocent people to suffer, and brought painful deaths to those both within and without our movement.</p><p>I had lowered myself to share even ground with her, only for her to use my good intentions to step on me as she tried to climb out of the consequences of her actions.</p><p>She had hurt me by still manipulating and controlling me like a slave even after I was free, using my desire to do what was right against me.</p><p>I offered her compassion she did not deserve, opened up to her about my past, and arrogantly thought I could sway her toward sympathy for our cause as if she was capable of such a thing, or as if sympathy from one so wicked was worth the sacrifices made to get it.</p><p>It was not just that she had hurt me and others, it was that she sought to re-enslave us using our own desire to be free. Even bound, guarded, and weighted with child, she cracked a domina's whip upon all within her reach, and I was the fucking fool who put myself there.</p><p>But perhaps above all else, I was ashamed: that I had not been able to see how she tried to manipulate me to free her so she could go home and get all of us killed; and that I did not I feel moved to see her brought to justice until I learned of the pain she caused my love. Knowing what she did to Acer should have been enough. Knowing she owned slaves should have been enough. Knowing she was a Roman noblewoman, gorged on the blood and suffering of innocent people, should have been enough. I had often thought so lowly of Spartacus and Crixus for only taking radical action for their own interests, and yet I now stood guilty of much the same.</p><p>"Nasir?" said Agron.</p><p>I would kill her. I would slit the wrists of the hands she had laid upon my Agron and watch her bleed to death in the dirt. Fuck Spartacus, fuck Lucius, and fuck her. I would kill her not just for the people she hurt and the lives she stole, but her will to keep fucking doing it, to use our very humanity to nail us to cross.</p><p>"Why did you not tell me?" I asked.</p><p>"You have endured worse, and far more of it. I did not wish to upset you, nor would I tax you further with my whimperings about things with which you are already familiar, and have dealt with far better than I. But...I also do not want you to think I hate anyone absent reason; I do not want you to be ashamed of me."</p><p>"Do not say such things! There is nothing that could make me ashamed of you, nothing in this world or in any other. And if you are pained, then I would share burden, as you do for me. Apologies," I opened my arms and wrapped them around his waist, "I did not try to understand why you feel the way you do, nor did I stand by your side when you were rebuffed by Spartacus and Lucius. I would make everything right, if you are willing." The blade in my pocket Saxa helped me craft the previous week was now thirsting for Roman blood.</p><p>Agron chuckled warmly, perhaps a bit stunned, "There is nothing to make right, my sweet. I did not explain myself to you, and I have been known to be unreasonable in the past," he winked at me, "You are perfect." He kissed between my eyes and rested the fingers of both hands around the shells of my ears.</p><p>We stood so for several minutes, making no movement or sound until our lips gradually found each other's. They stayed there for even longer before I found myself squished between my German and the wall.</p><p>I gently pushed him back with one hand, his massive frame following my movements considerately. "We must wait," said I, "Until Spartacus relieves us of charge." I had made enough mistakes this day, I would not make more.</p><p>"Time passes too slowly," Agron said with that cocky, shit-eating grin I could not resist. Perhaps I would allow myself one more mistake.</p><p>"We must be quick, then..."</p><p>I could kill the Roman bitch in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love how Nasir makes friends with literally everyone despite not being trusted at first. He's already friends with Oenomaus by the time he gets up from his post-arena coma, he's close friends with Spartacus (btw I could go on and on about how much Spartacus adores Nasir in the show, I love their friendship), he's friends with Gannicus, he's friends with all the Germans, he's good friends with Naevia, he's even kind of friends with Crixus (which not a ton of people can say), and somehow he even manages to tolerate prolonged contact with Agron (again, not many people can say that). I just love Nasir okay!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning began with water--a bucket of it, flung upon us by Saxa. She cackled in German, with Agron bellowing back in kind. He flopped back down upon our mat, his head in my lap. Morning sun laid loving caress upon my skin and almost put me back to sleep...until I realized it meant we had slept in several hours late. </p><p>"Agron..." said I.</p><p>"Hm," my lumbering bear replied.</p><p>"It is well past dawn."</p><p>"Mm."</p><p>"<em>Agron</em>."</p><p>"Mf..."</p><p>"I said it is <em>well past dawn</em>."</p><p>"Hmm," he grunted just before his eyes shot open and he sat up with a groan, "Fuck ass..."</p><p>"There has been quite enough of that, for the time being," said Spartacus as he walked in our room and dropped a block of cheese and a loaf of bread on our blanket for us to share. He sat down against the wall perpendicular to us and rested his elbows on his knees.</p><p>"It is late morning?" Agron mumbled.</p><p>"Mid," said Spartacus.</p><p>"And I suppose it was you who dispatched Saxa to wake us."</p><p>"It was," the Thracian admitted with no sign of remorse, "Oenomaus, Crixus, and Gannicus are waiting in conference, if you would care to join us."</p><p>"I would not. Warmth and comfort of lover's body are more enticing than Oenomaus, his pet Gaul, and the Gaul's pet Celt, but duty binds."</p><p>"Then let us see it done," said Spartacus as he tried to hide a smirk. He stood up and offered his hand to Agron.</p><p>"I will join you presently."</p><p>"How presently?" Spartacus scowled.</p><p>"I am nude, Spartacus. May I have a few moments to cover fucking cock, or would you have me make exhibition as punishment for sleeping late?"</p><p>Spartacus raised hands in surrender and took leave of us.</p><p>"We will never hear the end of this, will we?" said I.</p><p>"Never," Agron grunted, half the loaf of bread in his mouth as he dressed. </p><p>We had been awake and active much of the night, paying for it by missing our pre-dawn waking time. Rowdy personalities and lack of privacy would see that our punishment continued for at least the rest of the day. I finished the bread and my half of the cheese, the other half of which I handed to Agron as he finished fastening his belt. He took it from me and kissed my lips.</p><p>"One day we will have our own walls and we can fuck and sleep whenever we please," he promised apologetically. Communal living was the way of Agron's people, the arrangements in the temple had been no particular shock for him as they were for me. Yet it appeared my preference for modesty and privacy was rubbing off on him.</p><p>"I long for the day. Come here," I reached up for him as he finished gobbling his half of cheese as though it was a hand fruit. He bent down I bestowed a kiss of my own and stroked his hair and cheek, "Take care today."</p><p>He nuzzled his forehead against mine, "And you, beloved." </p><p> </p><p>I finished eating, dressed, and quietly watched for opportunity to return to the cellar. I had not forgotten the task I assigned myself the night before--precious time spent with the one I love, one of the many people her perversion wounded, only fanned the flames of my desire to shed her blood. While taking care of whatever chores needed aid, I spent much of the day planning how the deed would be done. I was not concerned with being caught; Spartacus would likely not punish me harshly due to my reasons and the repulsive creature in question, nor would Agron allow any harm to come to me, nor would anyone else in the camp but Lucius and Spartacus even object to the act. My only concern was completing the task before I was caught and stopped.</p><p>"Nasir," Spartacus called as I reached the portico, "I was just coming to find you."</p><p>"How can I help?"</p><p>"We have need of you in conference," said the Thracian. He patted my shoulder in greeting as I caught up to him and I followed him toward the conference room, "The arrival of our guest has left us in an unusual deadlock, and your level head and logic would be most welcome in breaking it." </p><p>We entered the conference room, the air thick with recent shouts and harsh words. Agron paced back and forth angrily, but smiled when he caught sight of me. I could not help but smile back. Lucius, Oenomaus, Crixus, and Gannicus were there as well, Mira's absence leaving a noticeable vacancy.</p><p>"Finally, a voice of reason," said Lucius in response to my appearance. I nodded at him in greeting.</p><p>"Nasir," Spartacus began, "arrangements have been made to ransom Glaber's wife back to him in exchange for new weapons, but now we are in disagreement as to what should be done with her. It is my will that her life be preserved for the time being, to fulfill the ransom and also not see us marred by cruel and lowly misdeeds. But each of us has a different idea..." He turned to Gannicus first, "Gannicus calls for Ilithyia's immediate death at my hand. It was the purpose for which he brought her here, albeit unbidden, to begin with." Gannicus met my eyes for but a moment before turning toward the window and shaking his head. "Oenomaus calls for her immediate release and cancellation of ransom exchange."</p><p>"For what reason?" I said to Oenomaus.</p><p>"Gannicus brought her here only to sate his own guilt and vengeance. She never should have come, and the longer we hold her captive, the more likely it is that someone takes her life. The murder of a helpless, child-bearing woman is not a stain I would see upon this movement. As far as ransom is concerned, Glaber will never agree to terms with us, and if he does, it is only because he plans to betray them. We should bring her somewhere far from here and set her free so that she will be found and returned before further mistakes are made."</p><p>I nodded to show my comprehension, and Spartacus motioned to the Gaul next. "Crixus is torn betw--"</p><p>"Crixus would see the foul bitch out from under this roof before she wreaks further havoc. She is a conniving snake who will only sicken us with her venom the longer she is among us," said Crixus.</p><p>"What would you see done with her?" I asked.</p><p>"I say we pursue ransom, then kill Glaber and set the cunt loose."</p><p>"Was it not you, but a short while ago, who prevented the killing of Glaber yourself so as not to call Rome's fury down upon us?" Spartacus chuckled, half-teasingly and half-bitterly.</p><p>"Let us...keep minds on current affair," said Lucius.</p><p>"I agree," I said, "Where do you stand, Lucius?"</p><p>"On the side of justice," the Roman replied. I could practically hear Agron's eyes roll.</p><p>"According to what metric?" I asked.</p><p>"According to what is right. Kidnapping innocent, defenseless women, burdened with child, taking their lives: is it that for which you want to be known? Would you see the cause you have built in the name of freedom and justice be marred by the taking of innocent life?"</p><p>"You would see her freed, then?"</p><p>"And delivered to safety," Lucius added. Agron scoffed.</p><p>"I take it you are of diverging mind?" I said to my heart.</p><p>"The wretch is a waste of breath who taints this world with her existence. We should seek ransom and deliver her as fucking corpse whether Glaber pays or not."</p><p>Spartacus sighed and Lucius shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "What are your thoughts, Nasir?" the Thracian asked me.</p><p>I took a moment to arrange my thoughts, though I already knew what my response would be. "I share mind with Agron in this," said I. Spartacus scowled, Lucius looked betrayed, and Agron appeared dumbfounded. "There are many among our number who deserve vengeance for offenses committed by her hand, and this world will be a better place for her absence. But we should take advantage of the ransom opportunity if we can. I doubt Glaber would deliver us weapons, but if we plan this carefully, the benefits could outweigh the risks--more weapons are sorely needed, and our receiving them would be demoralizing for Roman forces. He should not fall until we are ready to face the legions Rome would send in response to a praetor's death, but perhaps we could kill some of his best men if he agrees to meet for ransom, regardless of his fulfillment of the terms."</p><p>"And if the ransom falls through?" Oenomaus asked.</p><p>"The bitch dies regardless," I said with a shrug.</p><p>"And what of the babe?" Lucius demanded, "Have you even considered the child that grows within her?"</p><p>"I have. Child in womb may not yet take up sword," I needled, "but will be reared a Roman noble and one day enslave, torture, and kill for profit and pleasure. The monster that grows in belly is but added reason to take her life." Though I was confident in my decision and needed no encouragement, the look of pure pride on Agron's face warmed my heart. Spartacus, Lucius, and Oenomaus simply looked offended, while even Crixus's eyes widened in momentary surprise. Gannicus had not been paying attention for some time, but I doubted he would have cared ether way.</p><p>"You showed much compassion the day before. What prompts such change of heart?" Lucius pressed.</p><p>"Compassion for the unrepentantly wicked is a wound upon the innocent. I was arrogant and foolish to believe otherwise; to place my ethics over the greater good of our cause and the long-absent justice deserved by those she has harmed. Though I will admit, with much shame, that it took me learning of an offense by her against one I hold close to fully understand my error."</p><p>"You would see a child's heartbeat stilled for the sins of his father?"</p><p>"Of what fucking child do you bleat?" Agron growled, "Ilithyia is but fattened with the festering of Glaber's seed. When an actual child has sprung forth, whine of its rights all you like."</p><p>"I know not how families are understood east of the Rhine," Lucius bit back, "But children are sacred in Rome. The child that yet grows within her will be a person one day, and the inheritor of many hundreds of years of family history, at that. Punish Glaber for his wrongs as you will, but do not take an innocent life and prematurely end a family's story for his evil." Agron snarled something back but I no longer paid attention. Lucius was right about how Romans viewed their heirs, though why he thought Agron of all people would be swayed by that information is beyond me. More voices chimed in, but I did not try to listen to them. It was becoming clearer, with greater thought on the issue, that perhaps the child was more relevant than I had first thought.</p><p>"Nasir," said Spartacus, louder than he usually spoke so as to pull me from my thoughts, "What do you think of that option?"</p><p>"Hm?" said I.</p><p>"Of leaving Ilithyia alive at least until we have attempted ransom. Once we know if Glaber is cooperative or not, we can decide what to do with his wife and child."</p><p>I gave it a little thought and then nodded, "An acceptable compromise until we know where we stand with Glaber and his materiel."</p><p>"We are all in agreement, then?" Spartacus checked with the rest of the room. The other men nodded reluctantly. "Then we shall see it done. Gratitude, Nasir, for your input." I clapped his shoulder in reply and waited for the room to clear as Agron approached me.</p><p>"Your command of words will never cease to amaze me..." my German marveled, beaming down at me with love brimming in his bright eyes.</p><p>"Are words all you cherish from my mouth?" I teased, gently pinching his left flank.</p><p>He giggled and shrunk away before returning to crowd me up against the wall. "No, words are not all I cherish from your divine mouth."</p><p>"Agron," Spartacus interrupted from the hall before our lips could touch, "I would have further words."</p><p>"Fine, fine," Agron sighed. He kissed my temple and whispered in my ear a promise to continue our conversation when duties were finished for the day. I sent him off with a kiss and another soft pinch of his flank, his squirming and laughter heaving some of the weight off my heart and mind.</p><p> </p><p>When the temple was at its emptiest, I slipped down to the cellar on the premise of aiding Medicus, as I had been doing all day. Hoping the people left in charge of guarding Ilithyia would easily be persuaded to leave their post, I was happy to find Aria and Lysandros; Aria had spit on Ilithyia when she was brought to the temple, and Lysandros was a generally amiable young man who could be persuaded to do just about anything if asked nicely.</p><p>"May I enter for vinegar?" I asked upon approach. Aria nodded her head backwards toward the cellar in approval but Lysandros gave pause.</p><p>"Um...apologies but Spartacus said we mustn't let anyone through except for him."</p><p>"No apology necessary, I will seek some from Medicus. Unless you would be willing to retrieve some for me?" I said, "I'd rather not bother the old goat if I do not have to." Lysandros giggled but Aria merely exhaled with a touch of mirth. She had been worn down by years of abuse in House Batiatus, though I was told she showed marked improvement since traveling with Litaviccus to escort the freepeople who branched off from Spartacus and his comrades. The rest of the camp was enjoying watching the two of them clumsily try to woo each other.</p><p>"I can retrieve some for you," Lysandros said as he departed for the pantry where we kept the vinegar.</p><p>"Guard duty is uneventful, I assume?" I said to Aria.</p><p>"Yes. But yours was not."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"The attempt."</p><p>"What attempt?"</p><p>"Someone made attempt on Ilithyia last night. You and your boy were on guard duty, were you not?"</p><p>"We...retired early and were replaced."</p><p>"By Mira?" said Aria.</p><p>"How did you know?"</p><p>"She and the Roman fuck have been whispering all morning, talking about Ilithyia and an argument Mira had with Spartacus last night."</p><p>"She said she caught you two fucking in the hallway and took your place guarding," Lysandros giggled as he returned with the amphora of vinegar.</p><p>"We were not f- it does not matter. Have they been by here?"</p><p>"Well, no, we abandoned post to eavesdrop," said Aria as though it was the natural thing to do when guarding a prisoner, and I was dense to assume otherwise, "They were speaking in one of those rooms down the hall. Would that whoever tried to cleanse the world of the bitch try harder next time."</p><p>"Spartacus says that we cannot be like the Romans if we want to stand up to them," said Lysandros.</p><p>"Spartacus can eat shit," Aria replied.</p><p>"But if we take her life, the people will have further reason to condemn us."</p><p>"They are Romans and we are rebel slaves, they condemn us regardless of existence of reason."</p><p>"What do you think, Nasir?" Lysandros pressed, "We should not kill her, should we?"</p><p>Lysandros was surprisingly naive for one who had spent his entire life as a slave, but he was not completely wrong. I was silent for several moments as I considered their arguments, pausing to reflect on my current mission for the first time since deciding upon it. "I think that in a perfect world, all people deserve life and dignity, and it is not our place to rob each other of either," I began. Aria rolled her eyes. "But I think the world is difficult and cruel, and sometimes justice has to be ugly."</p><p>"...What does that mean?" said Lysandros.</p><p>"It means he agrees with me," said Aria with the ghost of a smirk. It was Lysandros's turn to roll his eyes.</p><p>"It means the two of you need a reprieve before you kill each other," said I, "Go get some water, I will stand watch until you return. And bring the vinegar up to Medicus." Neither of them needed to be persuaded. When they were gone, I swiftly and quietly made my way over to the corner in which Ilithyia yet sat, once again blindfolded and apparently asleep. The knife was in my hand, I was but a few footsteps from bleeding her dry for all that she had done. But Lysandros's words stayed with me. Instead, I knelt down before her and cut the blindfold from her head, nicking her cheek and startling her awake.</p><p>"N-Nasir?" she said.</p><p>"I came down here to kill you," I began in little more than a whisper, "You hurt someone very special to me: before the ludus fell, you laid unwelcome hands upon my lover. If you have never had to live through such a thing, you cannot understand what it does to a person. I was well-versed in it, I learned how to put out my mind as a candle in the night. But you lose a bit of yourself with every touch, lose a bit of your mind when you turn it off. Since I began to fall for him, I have prayed to the gods that my heart had been spared such servitude. But you...you brought darkness to my lover's world, and I could kill you for that alone."</p><p>"P-p-please, I am with ch--"</p><p>"With child, yes, I know, you have said. I would take your life regardless," I said, keeping the knife between her eyes, "But I will not. A friend of mine argued that your life should be spared so as not to give Romans further reason to hate us. Misguided, but not without merit. You see, Rome will seek our destruction regardless of how politely we ask to be treated like human beings. Appeasing or appealing to Roman favor is to stick a knife in one's own chest. But you are a praetor's pregnant wife, the vessel of his legacy. To kill you would be to threaten the lineage of one of the most powerful and well-bred Romans alive. The senate would trip over itself to respond to such an insult, such a threat to Rome's future. Killing you is not worth bringing even more troops down upon us. I would not risk the cause which my lover and I have nurtured so fervently, nor risk the lives of my comrades or my heart just to claim your pathetic life. I could forever still your heart right this very moment, but I am choosing not to out of love. You live from this moment on only because a rebel slave chose love over vengeance. When you return to your home, to your husband who hates you, to your role as heir producer, to your empty existence void of meaning, remember that every miserable breath you draw into your soulless Roman body is owed to a free man and his love for one of the same." I withdrew the dagger with a flourish and slipped it into my pocket. Returning to the hall, I waited a few more minutes until Aria and Lysandros came back before I took my leave.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day resumed with relative normalcy: Donar and Nemetes fell to blows, though over what I doubt even they know; Ortius split his thumbnail while carving new practice swords, and Medicus ordered me to tend to him; Crixus and Agron exchanged heated words before Spartacus ordered them separated; I tried to question Saxa about a new ‘companion’ for Chadara from the Germans, but words did not transfer and the exchange ended with her braiding my hair in the style of her tribe;  Litaviccus, Fulco, Lydon, and Pyrrhus returned with a captured cart; Lucius returned from a very long errand and immediately went to counsel with Spartacus: and I helped Medicus when needed and forged arrows much of the day.</p><p>I broke evening meal with Agron, Pollux, Tyronius, Saxa, and Donar, then all of us remained out on the portico to enjoy the night air and finish up any remaining chores. It was during this time when Spartacus informed us that arrangements had been finalized for the ransom exchange, and Agron had been the first to volunteer to go to the meeting point with Spartacus. Crixus then volunteered as well, 'despite the company', and Gannicus volunteered to go in Oenomaus's stead.</p><p>I did not expect Agron to seek my blessing in partaking in the ransom, nor would he have expected such of me if our situations were reversed. Yet it was still frustrating that he would be going on yet another dangerous mission without me at his side. He received punishment of sorts in the form of me reviewing the plan of exchange (and potentially plan of attack) until he fell asleep in my arms. I did not sleep the entire night, praying that the man slumbering in my arms would return to them alive and hale.</p><p>Now it was early morning, and I was helping Agron prepare for departure, to make myself feel better more than anything.</p><p>"I hate this," I grumbled the next morning as I helped Agron slide on his tunic. I had taken to wearing it, and he wanted something of me to take with him into what he was sure would turn into battle.</p><p>"What's that?" he giggled.</p><p>"Longing to be at your side, yet wound traps me here like fucking prisoner. Wanting to hold you forever and protect you, but I cannot. Sending you off, never knowing if I'll see you again in this life."</p><p>"Nasir..." he said softly, caressing my cheek with his massive hand.</p><p>"You do not know what it does to me to watch you leave. My heart breaks with every step that takes you farther away from my arms."</p><p>"I would not see you wounded so if there was anything I could do to prevent it. But we live in cruel times, and walk cruel lands that sometimes force us down different paths," he held my head in both hands and rested his forehead atop mine, bracing his thumbs near my eyes as though he could keep the tears locked away, "But every path I walk will take me back to you. No matter how long, how difficult, whatever mountains and seas may be placed between us, my path will always lead back to you. Promise me you will remember this always. Please."</p><p>The grin that stretched across my face felt strange, but it was welcomed. "I promise." We kissed and clasped hands as I walked him to the temple exit. He rested his hands on my hips and once more crowned my head with his. Crixus, Gannicus, Donar, Lydon, and the others who would be accompanying them were milling through the gate. Spartacus briefly clasped both our shoulders and nodded at Agron to follow him. "Return to me well," I said, clutching his chin.</p><p>"I promise," he giggled, and we kissed once more before he and the others fell away into the mist.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NOTE: I added a few more paragraphs to the previous chapter before posting this. It should flow clearly enough without them if you know the plot of the show, but you may want to go back and check them just in case. The new paragraphs begin after the almost-incident with Ilithyia.</p><p>So I actually don't like Lucius that much but I think the writers killed him off too early, and the way they did it just did not make sense, so here I have him surviving Atella, but that's one of the only canon divergences.</p><p>As usual, all distances, routes, and travel times are calculated using ORBIS: The Stanford Geospatial Network Model of the Roman World, Google Maps, and Google Earth Pro</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It stayed misty all day, which I appreciated; sunshine would have chafed against my dark mood. Most everyone I was close to was gone on the mission, and my bitter countenance helped repel most of those remaining who might attempt idle conversation.</p><p>Oenomaus spent quite some time showing me how to sharpen swords and the edges of shields, but that required little speaking. I did not yet know him well enough to make judgment on his moods and emotions, but he seemed troubled, and I assumed Gannicus was the reason. Truth be told, I was itching to find out what had driven a wedge so far between the two of them, but now was not the time. Especially not when the front gate creaked open and more than a dozen joyful rebels came pouring out from around the corner.</p><p>Tailing them came Crixus making for Naevia, Gannicus making for wine, and Donar and Spartacus all but dragging an unconscious Agron, one of his arms slung across each of their shoulders. I dropped the shield I was working on and ran to him.</p><p>"Nas-" Donar began.</p><p>"What is wrong with him?! What happened?!" I demanded. Walking backwards toward the medicus, I caressed Agron's cheeks and took stock of his injuries. His clothes were dirtied and scuffed, he had minor cuts and bruises all over his body, his nose had bled, and his skin was the pale grey-green of a man wracked with seasickness.</p><p>"It was but a few blows to the head," said Spartacus as though the words would be of fucking comfort. Agron had taken 'but a few blows to the head' weeks past when he confronted Sedullus in aid of Naevia, and he was still having headaches. (In retrospect, they could have been from exhaustion or lack of water, but my mind was not in a rational place at the time.)</p><p>Oenomaus motioned for our comrades to make space for us to pass through to the medicus, many of them pausing to gawk. Were he lucid, Agron would grouse about the unwanted attention, snapping at onlookers like a feral dog. His passive acceptance of, or perhaps obliviousness to, their stares only made me more concerned. I nodded at Oenomaus in gratitude and he replied in kind.</p><p>"Medicus!" Spartacus called down the main hallway. I had not noticed Medicus nearby, but my attentions were focused elsewhere.</p><p>They laid Agron down on the cot and I removed his tunic, belts, and boots, and discretely dislodged his cup so he could lay more comfortably. Spartacus briefed Medicus on the blows my German sustained and I tried to listen as I worked. From what I heard, he took kick to head, several punches to face, a hard landing upon ground, and at least one hard crack against the edge of a cart.</p><p>"Barbarian shithead likely has concussion," said Medicus casually as he came around to examine my lover, "When did it happen?"</p><p>"Just after sunrise."</p><p>"He has had much movement since injury?"</p><p>"Yes, the walk back from Atella is just over thirteen miles."</p><p>"And you made him walk all that way wounded so?" I demanded. It was not Spartacus's fault, I knew, but he was a convenient target of my ire at that moment.</p><p>"He wanted us to leave him behind, what would you have had us fucking do?" Gannicus slurred irritably from the doorway next to Crixus.</p><p>"I would have had them do such with <em>you</em>."</p><p>"He was walking well enough at first," Spartacus tried to deescalate, "but weakened after our path inclined. When elevation grew dramatically as we reached the northern foothills, perhaps three miles back, his legs gave out. He only became incoherent perhaps half a mile back."</p><p>"Nothing can rattle that thick skull," said Crixus as he leaned up against the doorway, smirking, "I doubt empty head will show any sign of assault in but a few hours." Naevia elbowed his ribs, which he apparently found endearing despite her best efforts.</p><p>"Need you medical attention, Crixus?" I hissed.</p><p>"No, I am hale."</p><p>"Then take fucking leave before condition changes."</p><p>Gannicus choked on his wine, laughing heartily and smacking Crixus on the shoulder as he wheezed, "The barbarian's boy has fangs, does he?"</p><p>"Gannicus!" Oenomaus snapped from the main hall, "Close fucking mouth and see to rest."</p><p>Crixus cast a curious glance at Spartacus, who was making great effort to keep a straight face, before taking leave.</p><p>Medicus shook his head and peeled open Agron's eyes, pulled back his lips to check his teeth, examined his fingernails, and looked in his ears.</p><p>"What are you doing?" I asked.</p><p>"Checking for internal bleeding. Stark whiteness on the eyes, nail beds, and gums, or blood in the ears may mean blood within body is draining where it does not belong."</p><p>He tapped Agron's nose, placed careful fingers at different points around his neck to gingerly rotate his head back and forth, and then lightly tapped his forehead, which drew a pained growl.</p><p>"His nose is intact?"</p><p>"Yes, keep bothering me and your mouth will not be so lucky!"</p><p>I rolled my eyes and set about dabbing Agron's face clean for lack of anything better to do.</p><p>"Did he heave stomach?" Medicus asked.</p><p>"He did," said Spartacus.</p><p>"Mhm. Concussion." He pointed a bony finger at Spartacus but did not turn to look at him as he continued his examination, "You," he barked, “fetch clay vessel in that top drawer."</p><p>The Bringer of Rain followed orders and set the crushed herb on the small worktable Medicus kept at his side.</p><p>Medicus cast an eye upon Spartacus's offering and shook his head. "Bah! Simple Thracian, I said <em>top</em> drawer!"</p><p>"It held many of the like."</p><p>"Then retrieve right fucking one!"</p><p>The Thracian retrieved four more vessels and set them down on Medicus's table. It brought a smile to my face to see the great Slayer of Theokoles looking to Medicus for approval like an eager-to-please child.</p><p>"Hot water," Medicus then ordered. Spartacus departed for the cooking fire outside.</p><p>Though I tried to pay attention to the goings-on around us, I did not take my eyes off of Agron for more than a moment. He appeared stuck between dazed wakefulness and fitful slumber, grimacing every time he tried turning his head to find a more comfortable angle. I had never seen him in such a state, so weak and vulnerable. Always in our still-young union it had been him doting on me, cleaning and rewrapping my wound more gently than required, sitting by my side and dabbing my forehead when I had a resurgence of fever, hand-weaving me a thick blue cloak that doubled as a blanket for when the night chill brought shivers to my flesh...I was happy to care for him, but the novelty of his helplessness frightened me.</p><p>"Will he be alright?" I choked out.  </p><p>"He will be fine," Medicus growled, "He must rest and replenish fluids from heaving stomach."</p><p>I bent down to feel his breath on my cheek and mumbled "I told you to return to me <em>well</em>, you dumb fuck.”</p><p>He smiled and his eyes flutter half-open before they fell all the way shut with the rising of his cheeks.</p><p>"I promised," he slurred.</p><p>"You did," I said, rubbing circles over his chest and kissing his shoulder.</p><p>Spartacus returned with a serving bowl of hot water, with which Medicus commanded him to fill a cup. When the sour Greek had finished a complete examination, he retrieved from one of the jars Spartacus had set before him a blue vial. Uncorking it, he put two drops in the hot water, paused to look over at Agron as though studying him, then grunted and put in two more drops before stirring the mixture with his finger.</p><p>"See he finishes this," he said as he handed me the cup.</p><p>All the while, Spartacus was looking upon Agron, who appeared to be dozing off. "Should he not be kept awake, if he has concussion?" the Thracian asked.</p><p>"Oh! Fancy yourself fucking medicus now, do you?" Medicus berated the Thracian, "Shall I tell you how to run cock-first into battle next?"</p><p>"Apologies," said Spartacus diplomatically, "I leave him in your capable hands."</p><p>"Get the fuck out," Medicus shooed the Slayer of the Shadow of Death. The latter nodded with a smile at Medicus and then at Agron and I before taking leave.</p><p>I placed a hand under Agron's neck and angled the cup carefully in front of his lips, "Open mouth," I whispered as I tried to lift his head as gently as possible.</p><p>"Hm?" said my gladiator before realizing what I asked, "Hm."</p><p>I poured the mixture into his mouth, a little bit at a time. He would swallow in between doses, and nearly shudder from the taste.</p><p>"What is this?" I asked Medicus.</p><p>"Henbane extract, for pain, sour stomach, and rest," the Greek replied, "You insist on clogging up my station, then?"</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"Then I am for food and collecting more herb. If anyone comes, give out only what is needed, and send for me if something urgent occurs." </p><p>I grunted my reply as I ran my fingers lightly through Agron's hair, bristling against the dirt and grease. Perhaps I would wash it when he fell asleep.</p><p>He looked at me through almost-closed eyes and smiled, reaching out to rest a hand on my cheek. "I return alive," he rasped, "and I yet feel you by my side. I told you the gods favor me."</p><p>"They favor us both--in many things. Now sleep, or the gods will not be able to protect you from my wrath."</p><p>"Your duties..." Agron mumbled on the cusp of deep slumber.</p><p>"...are whatever I fucking say they are, and I say they are keeping an eye on a certain barbarian troublemaker. Now sleep."</p><p>A soft smile claimed his face as sleep finally consumed him. </p><p> </p><p>I stayed by Agron's side the entire day, only moving to retrieve herbs, bandages, and other medical supplies for comrades in need that no one but Medicus, Naevia, myself, and possibly Oenomaus knew how to find. I did indeed manage to carefully wash his hair, though it was difficult to do without touching throbbing skull.</p><p>Mira brought me blades to sharpen and leatherwork to repair, though she was careful to avoid eye contact lest I tried to make conversation about the night she took over guard duty for me and Agron. She was right to be suspicious, as I had every intention of prying the events of that night out of her, but I was not in the mood to press the issue.</p><p>Despite Medicus and Camila's threats and scorn, I carefully pushed Agron over and slept next to him on the narrow cot all night. He was awake when I woke up just before dawn. The first dark lavender fingers of early morning were creeping through the temple, and I could just barely see the glow of his teeth as he smiled.</p><p>"You are beautiful," he said.</p><p>"You can't even see me," I yawned.</p><p>"I do not need to."</p><p>"Hm," I replied as I sat up, "How do you feel?"</p><p>"Like I could go mad any moment. I have never spent an entire day upon back in my fucking life, I need to move."</p><p>"It has been but twelve hours, and Medicus gave strict instruction that you are to stay still."</p><p>"Fuck the medicus."</p><p>"<em>I</em> agree with him."</p><p>He sighed and relaxed, acceding to my will for the moment.</p><p>"The gods bless us this day," said Spartacus from the doorway. He was already dressed for leaving the temple, and appeared to have recently returned from somewhere. There was an edge in his voice I did not care for, but I thought myself simply irritated from a poor night's sleep. "Agron awakens his old self again. How do you feel?"</p><p>"Like shit, but I have been far worse."</p><p>"I would see you improve. Remain at rest until powers that be permit light activity." Spartacus then turned to me. "Nasir," he said sternly, "I would break word this evening."</p><p>"Of course. Just seek me out when ready and I will find time."</p><p>Spartacus departed without further words and I slid off the cot to prepare for the day. Agron was scowling after the Thracian but did not ask me what he wanted--I had already told him of my desire to kill Ilithyia before abruptly changing my mind, to both of which he had shrugged.</p><p><em>"You are a free man,"</em> he had first said with a smirk, <em>"I would follow Spartacus's orders, but I would not force the same upon you. Spartacus has taken all precautions he deems necessary to protect the hag; should they prove insufficient, perhaps he should have made stronger effort."</em> Later, he would support my change of mind, as well. It never ceases to amaze me how malleable my disagreeable German lets himself become in my hands.</p><p>I gave Agron a kiss before he fell back to sleep, and I made for the portico and became busy with my usual tasks: Euclid was already barking after me to help with morning meal; Naevia was looking for a tool that I had used a few days past (she subtly accused me of misplacing it but I <em>know</em> to this day that she had used it after me the previous morning); Pyrrhus had fallen off the wall while on lookout duty and needed minor wound care with which Medicus did not want to be bothered; the usual goings-on of our sanctuary. Before I knew it, the day was gone and night was setting upon the land.</p><p>After evening meal was served and cleaned up, I took two portions for Agron and myself to his temporary quarters deeper within the temple. Medicus did not want him 'crowding up my fucking station with those giant barbarian legs', but he also did not want him near the center of activity, as he still required peace and rest. We broke evening meal together and were enjoying affectionate embrace and idle conversation when Mira arrived unannounced.</p><p>She pushed her way through the curtain over the door, sniffling. "He is a fucking asshole!" she cried. </p><p>I patted Agron's chest to hush him before he could bark at the poor woman to leave. "Who is?" I asked.</p><p>"Spartacus," she wept. She sat down on the floor with her back to the wall, facing us.</p><p>"What prompts such sentiment?"</p><p>Mira stiffened as she reported, "Ilithyia has been released."</p><p>"What?!" Agron yelped, sitting up rashly and cringing when the movement caused pain in his head.</p><p>"We were supposed to counsel to discuss the plan going forward. We had not yet decided what to do with her," said I, "When did he let her go? How?"</p><p>"Early this morning. He took her away before dawn, and led her blindfolded to a place on the main path in the woods, where he left her."</p><p>"Did he inform anyone of this before he did it?"</p><p>"He did not privilege me with the information until he returned after sunrise. I do not know if he spoke to Crixus, Oenomaus, or Lucius about it beforehand. I assume he did not speak to either of you?"</p><p>"No, he merely came by the medicus this morning to order Agron to remain at rest."</p><p>"He was dressed to depart the temple..." said Agron.</p><p>"When was this?"</p><p>"Just after dawn. He seemed to have already been somewhere," said I.</p><p>"He must have done it then. l do not know what has come over him, he has changed we came to this place."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"He is suspicious of everyone and barks orders like a fucking centurion. He believes everyone is incompetent and that responsibility to protect our movement has been thrust upon his shoulders alone. Even regarding Ilithyia, who has wronged him so deeply over and over, he has changed! He has become defensive of her and would let no one even look upon her absent his approval. He refuses to break words with me and has taken to resting in the counsel chamber rather than our bed ever since I- I assume you've heard by now..."</p><p>"Yes, and we understand," said I, "Everyone does."</p><p>"Not everyone..." Mira mused.</p><p>Mira was not alone in her thoughts: I too thought Spartacus had changed when we came to Vesuvius. Whereas he had been down-to-earth and spent his time among the lowest of the ranks when the rebels arrived at my old villa, now he spent much his time in 'counsel' with his top men, rarely deigning to check on the progress of the lower rebels' training. While he used to trust his people to see to their duties and find their own ways to contribute, he now rigidly delineated who held which tasks, how long they worked, and what they were expected to have produced at the end of each day.</p><p>Yet for a man with so many ideas about what people should be doing, he offered little in the way of guidance as to how. And when a task was not carried out to his liking, he viewed it as that individual's personal failure, and their worth fell considerably in his eyes. Even Agron was not exempt. After the liberation of warriors at Neapolis, Spartacus was furious that Agron had not informed him that there were other ships to potentially seize besides the one they did. He accused my German of deliberately withholding information to suit his own ends, and called him dishonorable. </p><p>Why Spartacus would ever think such of his co-founder of the movement and most devoted follower, I could not begin to surmise. Agron, who had no desire for leadership and frankly hated talking to most people, who was openly disgusted by anyone not assertive enough to set their own tasks and had the foresight of an angry bull, who loved and looked up to the Thracian like no one else in this world: how Spartacus could believe such a man would even consider usurping him was far beyond my comprehension. But Pollux later relayed that when the Germans first arrived, Crixus had expressed concern that Agron sought to take power for himself by recruiting warriors who would only follow him, and Spartacus seemed to agree with him.</p><p>Agron, of course, had been devastated. Certainly, he should have informed Spartacus of the other ships, but he did not fail to do so out of malice or calculation; he had simply not thought to inform Spartacus of the other ships, believing that Spartacus trusted his judgment. I wanted to explain this to Spartacus, as verbal communication is not high among Agron's list of considerable skills, but he asked me not to get involved.</p><p>Crushed by Spartacus's accusation and the harsh words with which it was made, Agron only felt better after the Germans swore their lives to Spartacus. Not to the cause, not to an ideal, not to a movement, but to Spartacus. They treated him like a king and used their Germanic word for "chieftain" to refer to him. Agron tried to explain that this dynamic was necessary, as Germans did not view leadership and loyalty in any other terms, but I was not convinced. Concern ever mounted in me that Spartacus truly did regard himself a king, altruistically leading our flock of frightened and useless slaves like a trained dog to sheep. </p><p>These thoughts remained on my mind long after Mira summoned Saxa, Chadara, and the Germans to share their wine, only for them all to pass out atop each other in our quarters. A nagging feeling bothered me until I fell asleep, haunted my dreams, and left me with unease when I awoke. Agron was already awake, and tossed and turned irritably at the knowledge that he would remain confined to our space at least until the following day. His mood was only worsened by Lucius knocking outside our doorway.</p><p>"What do you want, old man?" my gladiator growled.</p><p>"Not you," said Lucius disgustedly, "Nasir, Spartacus requests your presence."</p><p> </p><p>"I am here, is something wrong?" I asked as I entered the counseling chamber.</p><p>Spartacus was poring over a set of documents on the table. "Apologies, it seems neither of us had overlapping time in which to speak yesterday." He stood up, cracked his neck and nodded for Lucius to leave. "Lysandros gave his report on his shift guarding Ilithyia days past. I would know your reason for attempting to slip past him and Aria," he said without further conversation.</p><p>"I told Lysandros I was seeking vinegar from the stores. Did he not tell you this?"</p><p>"He did. Your explanation proved enough for him, but I would know what you did when you sent he and Aria away for several minutes."</p><p>"Is there something in particular that troubles you?"</p><p>"There is, in fact," he stood up from leaning against the table at his back, "On way to Atella, Lucius gave voice to complaint made to him by our prisoner: that you made attempt on her life."</p><p>"I did no such thing. Had I attempted to kill the cunt, she would no longer draw breath."</p><p>"Come to <em>plain words</em>."</p><p>"I did not intend to do her any harm at first, but I came to know of two new offenses that made me want her blood: her attempts to manipulate me to aid her release when I simply offered compassion, and her past...violations of the one who holds my heart."</p><p>"And what stayed hand?"</p><p>"I realized that as a praetor's child-bearer, she represents the future of Roman nobility: the senate would see her death by our hands as an existential threat, and bring down the mighty fist of Rome upon us before we are ready. I would not risk the safety of everyone here, all that we have worked for, and all that we have yet to do, just  for vengeance against her."</p><p>"You would see her released?"</p><p>"Absolutely not. I would see her dead, the cheapest repayment for her crimes. But we have little choice, as killing her is not worth burdening us with premature Legionary attention. She should be left somewhere public so that Glaber cannot conceal that she lives to trick the senate into supporting him."</p><p>"You disobeyed my orders."</p><p>"You are not my fucking dominus."</p><p>"You gave me your word!"</p><p>"I do not owe you blind obedience when you afford yourself no accountability! We follow you as a leader, not a master! Learn the difference or see your numbers crumble before we ever reach true battle!"</p><p>Spartacus paused, wearing that enragingly neutral expression of his that was impossible to read. "Gratitude, Nasir," he finally said, "As always, your candor is much appreciated."</p><p>"I give no shit about appreciation, I and everyone else here simply deserve to be listened to. We deserve to have a voice."</p><p>"It would seem... I have much thinking to do..."</p><p>I took that as dismissal and left. I doubted my words would have much tangible effect, but at least I knew they were heard.</p><p> </p><p>Agron has said that the only thing Germans mistrust more than other peoples is other Germans. Apparently it is much the same with the Celts of Britannia.</p><p>After leaving my counsel with Spartacus, I walked right into the middle of a vicious brawl between Gannicus and Fulco on the portico.</p><p>"What moves to such upset?" I asked Lydon.</p><p>At first they merely exchanged blows, the short but stocky Fulco easily dominating Gannicus's trim, almost lithe figure. Fulco may have won, had the dumb fuck not dragged Gannicus by the hair and tried to throw him down the temple steps. Gannicus held on to Fulco's wrist as the former tumbled, and Fulco soon followed him into the sand.</p><p>"Between these two, your guess is as good as mine," Lydon replied, "They've never gotten along, even years ago back in the ludus. Celts do not mix well."</p><p>The nimble Gannicus had regained his feet and was leaping about to strike the stocky clod Fulco like a bee buzzing a hound. He began luring Fulco over to the temple wall, probably to perform one of his signature running jumps. Lydon called out, "Fulco, you ignorant shit, don't let him fuck you against wall!"</p><p>To everyone's surprise and the wild cheers of the onlookers, Fulco grabbed Gannicus's ankle as the latter leaped into the air and pushed off the wall, aiming to kick his opponent. Holding onto Gannicus's ankle, Fulco flung him across the courtyard like a child might a doll. He tried to jump atop Gannicus, but the former champion rolled out of the way just in time, and throttled Fulco instead.</p><p>"Lydon!" Crixus barked, "Pry your fucking wife off Gannicus's cock!"</p><p>Lydon and Fulco had been best friends for nearly ten years. Lydon had arrived at the ludus just a few months before Fulco, but they became friends by virtue of being outcasts. They were even chosen to share a cell after they bad both made names for themselves in the arena. The two were inseparable, and the other gladiators had taken to calling them 'the old married couple' and each other's wives.</p><p>Lydon rolled his eyes and cupped his hands, shouting to Fulco, "That's enough, dumb fuck!" The brawl continued and Lydon moved closer, exasperated. He was about to throttle Fulco himself when Spartacus emerged from the temple.</p><p>"What new offense draws such clamor?!" the Thracian yelled.</p><p>"Neither of them likely know. These two are as oil and water, I'm told," said I.</p><p>Spartacus sighed, gathering a deep breath before barking a series of orders of cessation at the dueling Celts. All went unheeded. Clearly frustrated--the phenomenon of being ignored likely a foreign one to the Thracian--he motioned to Lydon to aid him in forcibly dismantling the fight.</p><p>But Oenomaus, who had been watching the ordeal nearby, stuck out his arm to make them pause.</p><p>"No," said the former doctore, "let them settle this themselves."</p><p>"We waste time and energy on this! We will never be ready to face the Romans if these petty squabbles persist!"</p><p>"No," said Oenomaus pointedly, "we will not."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"You cannot force resolution between two men so entrenched in their rivalry. Your intervention now would serve only to postpone further hostility."</p><p>"I seek to postpone them killing each other."</p><p>"Camila and I shall intercede if that point approaches, but I do not believe it will," Oenomaus turned to Spartacus, "I told you I know nothing of soldiers and war, but I do know the ways of men, and the harnessing of them; sometimes being a leader requires knowing when to step back and fall from sight, so your people might see for themselves what the issue truly is."</p><p>Spartacus considered this, and though he appeared conflicted, he stayed put and kept silent. He did catch my eye after a time, nodded at me, whether in greeting or acknowledgment, I do not know.</p><p>Finally Fulco and Gannicus began to tire, their movements becoming weak and lazy. They pressed forward until they could stand no more, both of them collapsing into the sand, panting. The crowd clapped and cheered, and Fulco and Gannicus began laughing. Fulco flopped down in the sand while Gannicus sat up, their lax bodies both heaving with almost delirious laughter.</p><p>"A good fight, you simple boar," said Gannicus as he dizzily tried to stand. </p><p>"One worthy of the arena, you spindly bitch," said Fulco as he rolled over and sat up. They helped each other stand and the crowd cheered once more, before Camila dispersed everyone to prepare for evening meal. The two combatants shook hands and clapped shoulders before parting. Crixus helped Gannicus up the steps and into the medicus while Lydon aided Fulco.</p><p>I heeded Camila's commands to aid in preparing meal, then took two portions to Agron's resting quarters to share meal. I told him of the fight and he bemoaned not being there to aid Fulco in noble endeavor.</p><p>"That would have just drawn Crixus in," said I.</p><p>"Exactly." He tried to wink at me but such sudden movements still bothered his head. When our meal was finished, I deposited our dishes and made my way to the medicus to retrieve some more herb to ease his pain. The brawling Celts appeared to already have finished being treated, as the medicus was empty and clean. Except for a pile of linens, stained with blood and dirt and in need of a wash. I tried to grab hold of the overflowing basket, but it was surprisingly heavy and I struggled to find a strong grip.</p><p>As I worked, I heard Gannicus shuffling up behind me before he spoke, though I did not immediately turn to acknowledge him.</p><p>"I was hoping to speak with you earlier, while my wounds were treated. You are well?"</p><p>"I am not the one who had my ass handed to me by that ox," said I.</p><p>Gannicus chuckled but did not speak for a moment, until he observed, “A heavy load...” about my cargo.</p><p>“It is fine,” said I.</p><p>“I would help, if I could...”</p><p>“I certainly would not stop you.”</p><p>“Nazeer...”</p><p>“It’s <em>Nasir</em>,” I snapped. Only Agron was allowed to pronounce my name so, and only because he sometimes struggled with certain “s” sounds if he did not speak carefully...a trait I attributed to his Germanic upbringing which I found endearing.</p><p>“Er- Nasir...Apologies,” Gannicus sputtered out, clumsily grabbing hold of the basket of linens.</p><p>I laughed, “What about them?”</p><p>The Celt sighed, “I owe you apologies for...my words the other day...”</p><p>“Which ones? You spoke many, if memory serves.”</p><p>Another sigh, “I offer you my apologies for accusing you of stealing the map and coin...and calling you the German’s pet.”</p><p>“An apology? to me?” said I, not bothering to hide a smirk, “Agron sanctioned this conversation, then?” I would break words with him about leaving my quarrels to me unless otherwise bidden, if so.</p><p>“I have not broken words with the savage since he almost clove my skull in two with nought but bare fucking hands. Spartacus goes to great lengths to keep us separated,” Gannicus managed a chuckle, “I am here because Crixus told me all that has happened in my absence and all that you did for these people before I first arrived. I treated you with disrespect unworthy of a man of the Brotherhood.”</p><p>“Brotherhood or not, I am no one’s pet, understood?” I snapped. The undue reverence paid to the gladiators simply for being so was ever grating on me.</p><p>“Understood.”</p><p>“Good. Apology well received,” I said as I stuck out my hand.</p><p>Gannicus took it and clapped my shoulder, a genuine smile absent snark or inebriation spreading across his face, “Gratitude. Brother.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Like I said in the beginning, this doesn't really have a strong plot, therefore I didn't really try to write a real ending. The main thing was just coming full circle with the tension between Gannicus and Nasir. I may add on to this and I may not, but I have other "Spartacus" and Nagron fics on the way, so keep an eye out for those if you liked this.</p><p> </p><p>Regarding Nasir's name:</p><p>I cringe so hard at the way Agron says "Nazeer", so I cooked up the linguistic barrier headcanon because that makes some sense to me. It should also be noted that the name Nasir is generally associated with Arabic, in which it is spelled ناصِر and pronounced NAH-ṣeer, but there was no widespread Arabization of Syria until about 800 years AFTER the Third Servile War. So I think the main possibilities for this are</p><p>1. Nasir is from lands straddling Arabia and Syria and his ethnic group is neither Arabian nor Syrian entirely, but does have Arabian influence, hence his Arabic name but assumed Syrian origin. Trading posts were established in this area and eventually small military installations to protect against bandits following alliances made between Arab tribes, Assyria, and Babylonia in the early-mid first millennium BC, so I know there were cross-cultural interactions and societies in the region with ties to both Arabia and Syria.</p><p>2. I guess the Romans just used "Syria" to refer to the Middle East and everything east of the Black Sea region and west of India. So maybe he is ethnically Arab and from an Arab community/Arabia itself, but the Romans didn't bother to distinguish Arabia from Syria.</p><p>3. Nasir is from Syria but his family is ethnically Arabian, though I'm not sure of what the circumstances would be for this because I'm not very clear on cross-border migration and settlement between ancient Arabia and Syria.</p><p>4. DeKnight et al just dropped the ball and/or didn't realize Syria wasn't Arabized at this point. The second one is less likely to me because in GoTA, Ashur and Dagan speak Aramaic (the main language of Syria at that time, not Arabic but sounds similar for non-native speakers) and Ashur's name is distinctly Assyrian (Syrian and Assyrian are often treated as synonyms regarding ancient/BC-era things, so I think the writers had some idea of the ethnic situation in Syria at that time and didn't just assume the dominant culture(s) was/were Arabized.</p><p>I have a few other hypotheses, but these are the most likely, in my opinion.</p><p>Anyway I went way off on a tangent but to circle back to what I was talking about, my head canon is that Agron has trouble pronouncing "Naṣir" due to linguistic differences between Arabic and Proto-German. The pronunciation of the name Nasir (NAH-ṣeer) in its original Arabic form *could maybe* have been difficult for a native Proto-German speaker to pronounce. I honestly don't know if that would even be a thing but we're not given enough information to disprove it.</p><p>If yall can correct me or add on to this, feel free! I love this kind of thing but unfortunately my studies limit my exposure to it, so I'm probably getting a bunch of stuff wrong.</p><p> </p><p>(Main source: Metropolitan Museum of Art: https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/assy/hd_assy.htm)</p>
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